Misdirection
by Kaimaler - C. Bell
Summary: After the fall of Mehrunes Dagon, the Champion of Cyrodiil takes Martin's death hard, she becomes restless and careless; when this takes its toll on her, she is captured by Tevinter Slavers who take her to Thedas as a slave only to be freed by a hero.
1. The Tevinter

**_Misdirection_**

_By Kaimaler._

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><p><strong><em>Soooo, my other Dragon Age X Oblivion crossover hasn't been going too well. Not enough readersreviews, y'know the deal. _**_In attempts to rectify this I'm releasing a new version of the same story._

_Same main character but with a different plot. For those of you who've read the original script; our Heroine won't be reaching Ferelden first, she'll be thrown straight into Kirkwall (or nearby...) territory. To minimize likeless between the stories._

_So, here's Version 2.0. Read, review, enjoy. Do whatever, but make sure you read more! :D_

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><p>The battle burned most of the district and with the Imperial City invaded; leading Martin to the Dragon Fires would be difficult.<p>

Understatement of the year.

Being freed from her cell, S'aravi was beginning to wonder that, if she was left in the Imperial prison, would everything have made more sense? The Emperor _himself_ had come down those spiraling stairs to _personally_ free her and pardon her crimes.

Whatever she did to get his attention, she was thankful... Or at least, she was, before the whole of Cyrodiil was under the threat of being overrun with daedra.

Not to mention, Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Prince of Destruction had climbed out of oblivion just for them. Or to torture and then kill them all.

She wasn't expecting what happened inside the Temple and when it came down to it; she couldn't fight to keep him there.

"I do what I must do. I cannot stay to rebuild Tamriel. That task fall to others." His robes were spotted with blood, both his and of the daedra they fought outside. He spared her a sad smile, "Farewell. You've been a good friend, in the short time that I've known you."

Silent, but aware of Martin's words, S'aravi shook her head slowly. She didn't want this; who would? He was the last of the Septim blood, he _had_ to survive. "But I must go. The Dragon waits."

_What?_ S'aravi gulped, rooted to the spot. "Martin-!" He took off just as the ceiling collapsed inward and revealed Mehrunes Dagon.

He stepped over the rubble of the Temple wall, baring his massive battleaxe as Martin stepped into the center of the Temple. With a roar that shook the growl, Mehrunes readied to drop his axe on Martin.

Sparks appeared on Martin and fire burst from where he stood. The pillars of the Temple blew away like paper compared to its force. Mehrunes reeled back, shielding his face from the white flames.

Mehrunes and S'aravi watched as the pillar of fire rose into the sky, taking the form of a massive dragon.

_Akatosh_. S'aravi knew it the second she saw its form batting its giant wings above her. He had come to protect them and to stop Mehrunes Dagon.

Clearly, from the ear-splitting battle cry from Mehrunes, he knew it too.

The great dragon pulled back and shot itself through Mehrunes Dagon who stumbled back in pain. Akatosh was easily twice Mehrunes' size and his anger was legendary.

Landing in front of Mehrunes, Akatosh showed no fear of the Daedra even as he struck the fiery dragon with his taloned hand. Distracting Akatosh from the mighty swing of his battleaxe which forced the great dragon back, roaring as Akatosh felt the blow connect.

As if predicting Akatosh's next move, Mehrunes Dagon moved two of his four arms in front of him, defending himself from the burst from Akatosh's snout; Mehrunes was hit with fire that even his resistance couldn't guard him from Akatosh's attack completely.

While Mehrunes tried to move quickly enough to fight back, but Akatosh leapt forward, sinking his teeth deep into Dagon's throat. Mehrunes struggled against the assault and Akatosh merely bit harder before he released the weakened Daedric Prince.

Now, while he was considerably weakened, Akatosh bathed Mehrunes Dagon in a Divine Fire, the same that protected the mortal realm from Oblivion.

Light came forth from Mehrunes Dagon's form as his bloodcurdling cry could be heard from all corners of Cyrodiil. It blinded S'aravi and she covered her sight from the fire.

When Akatosh ceased the flame, Mehrunes was gone; banished back into Oblivion with his daedra.

After the battle, Akatosh appeared exhausted and the great dragon slumped over. The heart wrenching moment that S'aravi thought that Akatosh, defeating Mehrunes Dagon and saving their entire world, could be seriously wounded from the onslaught with the Daedric Prince.

S'aravi stood helpless as she watched the great dragon himself, Akatosh the Dragon God of Time, pant like a mortal would. She reached out, prayed with all her heart, that he was okay; their god still lived.

Then, as S'aravi thought he may be lost to them, Akatosh ducked down and yanked himself upright, letting out a roar that could cause an earthquakes. It was a victory roar; one that assured her Akatosh would not die today, he'd live on, and continue protecting them as he just did.

With a smile, S'aravi barely noticed the stone that began encasing him.

He stopped, the roar was silenced, and his fiery body was stilled. She heard stone cracking and, when she saw the great dragon's feet, she spotted the rock that climbed up his body.

As fast as it started covering him, it ended. Akatosh's flame was diminished and all that was left of his time in the mortal realm was the giant statue that stood in his place.

The sky turned back to its natural shade, clouds reappeared as if it never happened. Fires dissipated and the sounds of metal on metal, swords smacking into armor, stopped completely.

All was silent and in this quiet moment, S'aravi felt her heart break.

Martin had died for them. She heard him then and as only she could.

"_The Amulet is shattered; Dagon is defeated._

_With the Dragon's Blood and the Amulet of Kings, we have sealed the gates of Oblivion. Forever._

_The Last of the Septim's passes now into history. I go gladly, for I know my sacrifice is not in vain._

_I take my place with my father and my father's fathers._

_The Third Age has ended and a new age begins. _

_When the next Elder Scroll is written... You shall be its scribe._

_The shape of the future, the fate of the Empire._

_These things, now, belong to you._"

S'aravi felt like retching; travelling all across Cyrodiil, closing gate after gate, slaying daedra, entering Mankar Camoran's paradise, infiltrating the Mythic Dawn, and, finally, returning the crown to Septim blood.

All was gone now that Martin had sacrificed himself for Tamriel. In his death, the end of the Septim bloodline was the answer to defeating Mehrunes.

She loved Martin above all, perhaps even enough to be with him given the chance, but he was to be Emperor (a title he earned more in death rather then life) and she was an escaped Imperial prisoner.

There would've been no future for both of them even if Martin has survived.

Somehow, even though his sacrifice was his choice, she felt like she failed. Her quest from the start was to save Martin, keep him alive long enough to reignite the Dragon Fires. It was never done and she'd focused on it for so long that, even though Tamriel was safe, S'aravi had fallen short of her goal.

She and all of the Empire lost their Emperor, a man who was pure of heart and soul. He proved himself a Septim in his death.

It was a powerful shame that he could not do so in life.

S'aravi waited for Chancellor Ocato; she knew he'd be racing in to congratulate her and Martin; she'd have to deliver the news to all of Tamriel.

The Septim line was no more.

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><p>Now, months after the defeat of Mehrunes Dagon, S'aravi found herself back in her adventures.<p>

Day after day she followed the same routine, searching for quests to occupy her time. As the Champion of Cyrodiil and good friend of Martin Septim (the word spread through Ocato she realized) she was now far more famous and people sought her out to give her mundane favors to complete.

With her fame, S'aravi needed only to appear in public for new problems to come her way.

Saving her gold, she had bought many homes across Cyrodiil, each one housing her trophies from her exploits.

Yet, even with her riches, S'aravi hid her broken soul. She had no true desire to move on, only to fulfill in the places she had not with Martin. Her undying need to reach other's expectations led her to sleepless nights spent in the forests, nightmares haunting her sleep when she did have time, and people hunting her every step.

She caught an assassin in her home once. She allowed the man to leave with his life as she had disarmed him; his fellow assassins would make him pay for returning without proof of her death.

Slavers weren't too pleased that she both interrupted their business frequently, and destroyed slave transport routes.

Bounty hunters, assassins, vengeful slavers; she had everything after her.

The only thing she wondered, was how long would it take for them to come to a mutual agreement and hunt her together.

She'd probably loose then, but they weren't too bright and were far too greedy for that suggestion to ever succeed.

Even through all these troubles hunting her, S'aravi had once place in all of Tamriel that she was safe. The neighbors hid her home there, insisting that an Imperial named Ellie lived there and even had an Imperial pretend she did.

They valued her company greatly and kept this secret for her.

Decorating the house with fake, torn tapestries, weak furniture, S'aravi made it look like a beggar did live there.

It was on the Waterfront just outside the walls of the Imperial City. It was creaky, slumped over, and would no doubt collapse one day, but it was more home then the other houses she bought.

With peace and quiet its only qualities, S'aravi was reminded of the old days after escaping the Imperial dungeon.

Dismounting Shadowmare, the black horse gifted to S'aravi from the ex-Speaker Lucian Lachance, she entered her home at the Waterfront. Glad to return home.

Dropping her pack on the floor, she collapsed into her chair, sighing in content.

It had been a long adventure, hunting a Necromancer and earning the title of Archmage. Khajiit weren't very talented at magicka, but S'aravi was born under the birthsign The Mage; which granted her a natural skill with magicka, restoration to conjuration. S'aravi could do it.

She held the staff she made herself in her lap; she hadn't put it in the display case she intended on leaving it. At her home in Skingrad, her manor had much of her prizes from her exploits on display for the nobles that joined her for private dinners.

Right now, though, she was alone and extremely tired.

With the day's events finally catching up on her, she felt a wall of exhaustion hit her full force. She was falling asleep in the rickety chair and didn't mind all too much.

No Counts or Countesses would be caught dead in the Waterfront; her home would be safe from prying eyes.

In her haste to rest, S'aravi didn't notice the dark figures hiding in her home and, by the time she heard the creaking of warped floor boards. It was far too late.

_Darkness_.

A black bag had been pulled over her head, the string pulled to stop her from ripping it off and killing whoever forced it on her.

Struggling, S'aravi remembered she threw her pack down when she entered her home. She had no weapons on her currently except for her claws.

With a roar that only Khajiit understood, S'aravi flipped in the chair, kicking it forward into the assailant who made a loud _thump_ as he hit the floor.

Reaching for the black bag, S'aravi was stopped when two sets of hands grabbed her, pulling her hands away from the bag and trying to drag her down to the floor.

Blind, S'aravi had no chance, and instead, she used her heightened sense of hearing to fight back.

_To my left_. S'aravi jerked to her left, freeing her opposite arm from the attacker to her right. She stiffened her hand and drew her claws down the chest of her enemy. Hearing him cry in pain, S'aravi turned away from him, trying to face the other who held her arm before.

Extra footsteps told her the other assailant, the one who pulled the black bag down her face, was back on his feet and heading straight for her.

"You'll pay for that beast!" The enemy she clawed threatened and then S'aravi heard a weapon being drawn. _A short sword._

S'aravi growled, her voice bellowing when she felt the short sword slice her back. Throwing her head back in pain, the others grabbed her. She was fighting blind against three attackers.

She wouldn't escape this.

They jerked her to the ground, shoving her down with all their force.

"I'll sell you with broken bones for this, creature." Obviously, this person wasn't fond of the beast races. They must not be from Cyrodiil; they had to be Morrowind slavers.

_Slavery_. S'aravi almost couldn't feel the sting of their blows anymore. She was defenseless and they knew it. The shock of that word affected her more powerfully then the cold metal of their short sword cutting down her chest, scarring her collar and body. _You are to be a slave. After everything._

_This is where your legacy ends._

They beat on her until she was unconscious then tied her and left with her on their shoulders.

To the docks of Anvil.

The Tevinter Imperium had a new kind of slave to tame and these beast races were feisty.

"Are you injured?" The leader asked their wounded ally, "I'll be fine. When we reach the ship, I'll have to get stitches."

"These people are dangerous." Another replied with a chuckle, "Look at the fight this one put up."

Their leader shook his head, "Silence fools; this is an animal, not a person. It won't reach much to the Tevinter; they'll probably skin it, stuff it, or turn it into a rug anyways."

"True. Though it is a new kind of slave, perhaps they'll want to find a way to train it." The scarred assailant spoke up, tapping the claw marks up. "Damn animal packs a punch though."

"Then maybe it'll fetch a better price." Their leader mused, "A Tevinter Magister could want to flaunt his achievement to the others. In that case, this cat beast will be worth a fortune."

"Say, keep it until we find the proper Magister. That way, we'll make three times as much as we would selling it to a pet lover."

"We'll look into it." The leader ended the conversation. "This is their Champion remember; it may be too much for even a Magister to control."

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><p><em><strong>Yes, this is version 2.0 of my first DA x ES:O crossover. <strong>Personally? I prefer this one. I may just delete the other and keep this one on my page. :) _

_I hope you enjoyed, if so, review! I know crossovers don't get a lot of love, so I'll be patient and wait for the reviews. If you like it, tell me what you want to see more of, if you didn't, correct me!_

_I love some good constructive critism._


	2. Elves of this Land

**_Misdirection_**

_By Kaimaler._

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><p><em><strong>Continue? <strong>(imaginary countdown here)  
>So, here we go, chapter 2! Nothing new to put here, rather boring at home really. :)<br>Read, enjoy, whatever._

**_Review Replies:_**

**_Nonsensical-Romance: _**_Oh, well then! Hello. :)  
>Yeah, I kinda' like this one more too.<em>

_I may end up rewriting the other one "Heroes of Old" into something more... dramatic. Daedra and stuff. Since this is the same story with a different (somewhat :D ) main character and basic plotline, then the two will show minimum differences in regards to interaction with the universes._

_Instead, I may change "Heroes of Old" to a Dunmer who's taken to the first Dragon Age, with the Warden, or perhaps stay on Dragon Age 2 with Hawke. Either way, I'm thinking about it._

_You'll get two, no worries. I have currently three x-overs in my collection and a number of single category stories. I've always told reader that, while I may end up rewriting the story so it flows better, or deleting it and republishing it due to connection/storing problems. I never abandon a story. EVER._

_I hate when I read something and find out the author (regardless of the, say, twenty reviews it's gotten for three chapters) goes ahead and deletes it 'cause they don't _feel _like it.  
>Rubs me the wrong way.<em>

_Anyways, here's the next chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing! :)_

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><p>When S'aravi awoke, she felt everything her captors had done to her.<p>

If Khajiit didn't have fur, she'd be black and blue. The wounds from the short sword had stopped bleeding, probably by her slavers, and instead of the armor she was wearing... she felt nothing.

Opening her eyes, she found more darkness, but her sight was barely able to cut through it all. Nauseous and aching in pain, S'aravi tried to force herself upright.

She had to see what was around her, assess her position, and, with luck, find a way to escape.

Partially aware that she was being rocking back and forth, S'aravi felt weak, her armor was taken away, and she felt a strange coolness brush across her fur.

She was lying on a wooden floor, placing a hand underneath her, she pushed herself up. Absentmindedly she felt the water sprinkling down from the upper levels of the ship, but she had not yet thought she was on the sea.

These were slavers from Morrowind, right?

Leaning against bars, S'aravi grasped her side. Her heart rate soared when she felt the long, deep gash. _No wonder it hurts so_. She grimaced, doing all she could to find out where she was.

The wooden walls, the iron bars, water leaking from the top level. S'aravi had never been on a ship before; this was a whole new unwelcome experience.

Constantly rocking to and fro, S'aravi felt sicker and sicker as time went on.

After a few minutes of this, S'aravi passed out. Her own illness and wounds finally taking its toll on her weakened body.

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><p>Sounds of metal on metal woke her this time. The key unlocked her cage door; men clad in black armor entered and took her by the arms, dragging her out of the cell.<p>

Her feet dragged behind her, hitting every bump on the way. She knew by the time she needed to stand they'd be too damaged to do so, but her body wouldn't listen to her commands. It complained with every pull of her muscles and throbbed from every jerk of her captors.

They took her to the top deck, leading her off the ship completely.

She felt the warm sun, heard seagulls above, and the sounds of many workers unloading supplies.

Focusing on the area around her, S'aravi saw some slavers wearing elaborate robes some blues, whites, and golds. Yet one stood out above all, he wore dark green robes with gold and silver lining.

He had to be their leader, or captain, for he stood in the middle in front of all the others. He oversaw everything going on the decks below and ordered his subordinates around.

S'aravi was still powerless in her position, but she knew she couldn't become a slave. No matter the cost.

Once she was on the dock, they took her to what appeared to be a warehouse at the docks. In the very back of this warehouse were cages that kept slaves for future transport.

Thrown into the cage, they locked the cage door behind her.

Shaking her head, S'aravi felt more aware as time went on. Sitting up, she examined her surroundings.

Aside from the iron bars, S'aravi could see the large walls and room that encased her and the other slaves. _Others_. S'aravi only now saw she was in a cage with other slaves. It was large, spacious, meant for holding a large number of captives.

There were young elves and humans, S'aravi couldn't tell if they were Bosmer or Altmer, but none were Dunmer's. Imperials and Redguards made up a smaller number of the captured slaves.

And all were cowering from her presence.

Sighing, S'aravi moved to lean on the bars. "Don't worry, I don't bite." She chuckled weakly, watching the stunned slaves reel back as she spoke. "I am S'aravi, my greetings fellow captives." She wanted to make light, to break the ice, but these slaves seemed to want nothing more then for her to disappear.

They were all afraid of her and she couldn't tell why. She was obviously not a slaver.

The children were held tightly in the adult's arms, staring wide eyed like she'd jump out and eat them.

_Like I was an animal_. S'aravi sighed; they were distasteful of her heritage. Why though, she couldn't tell. It wasn't like the beast races were rare; the Argonians owned the entire Blackmarsh region and the Khajiit all of Elsweyr. The beast races had more forms of the same race then any other.

There was a little elven girl who didn't seem too bothered by S'aravi, she just didn't want to be held as close as the elven woman was doing now. She struggled in the woman's arms, but it was futile.

She didn't like the bars, but the sight of the other slaves destroyed her resolve. Moving to the wall with them would probably cause panic and with that panic, slavers would come to silence them.

Liked or feared, S'aravi wouldn't put that on these people.

Hours passed before she heard the slavers moving again, nothing happened though. Words were exchanged; mostly about the next place they'd move S'aravi and the other captives.

From what she could pick up, they'd be moving S'aravi to a cave near a coastline; there, another group of slavers would come and complete the delivery to a place (or person, she wasn't sure) called Minrathous to prepare the slaves for selling.

Scratching the area near her wound, S'aravi was sure that if these fellow slaves treated her like such, then the slavers would be much worse.

_Not even accepted by slaves_, S'aravi snickered, _That's pretty bad._

The struggling child finally freed herself though and the elven woman tried to catch her, crawling after the girl before she got too close to S'aravi. Fearless as any child, the girl stood in front of the Champion of Cyrodiil. She was uncertain, but held nothing against S'aravi.

Taking her place back on the wall, the elven woman who was holding the child tried to call her back.

She wasn't hiding her interest in S'aravi, especially after she announced herself. "Kitty!" She leaned forward, putting a hand on S'aravi's face, the other messing with her ear.

Hearing a few stunned gasps, S'aravi realized that, though there were Imperials, Redguards, Bosmer, and Altmer. There wasn't a beast race in the cell.

_Strange._ S'aravi blinked, why hadn't she noticed this before? It was increasingly difficult to think with a little girl pulling on her whiskers though.

Clenching her jaw shut, S'aravi resisting whining from the sharp pain. "Hold child." She reached out and took the girl's hand off her ear and whiskers.

Moving her legs in front of her, S'aravi pulled the girl gently on her lap and tilted her head down. Placing the girl's right hand on the top of her snout, just before her nose, she allowed the girl to explore.

Giggling, the girl began a petting motion on S'aravi's forehead.

The people on the wall visibly relaxed, now seeing that their new _'guest_' was not actually an animal. The woman who was holding the girl came forth first.

"What are you, creature?" She asked, the poor lighting made it difficult to tell what the markings on her face were or even meant though.

"I am Khajiit; my people hail from Elsweyr in Tamriel. I, however, was born in the heartland of Tamriel, called Cyrodiil." S'aravi explained, "I am an Imperial citizen and their Champion."

"Champion?" She looked quizzically to the Khajiit slave. "If you are a Champion, how were you captured?"

Sighing, S'aravi looked at the girl for a bit of comfort. She was unaffected by the conversation, ignoring the words but thrilling in how S'aravi's face moved. "I have become careless. I was given the title of Champion of Cyrodiil only a few months ago, but during that time, a very close friend of mine died. I admit, I have been brooding." She chuckled, baring her teeth to the curious child who gasped in amusement when S'aravi's sharp feline teeth were displayed.

"I'm sorry for your loss then." The woman sounded sincere, "I am Maethel Lailaer." She greeted the others now calm and just as interested in S'aravi as the child was.

"I am sorry you have to be here, Maethel." S'aravi nodded somewhat, still aware that the girl was attempting to open her mouth.

"Don't apologize for that, S'aravi." Maethel smiled, "You are here too, just as trapped as us."

Maethel giggled, "That is Nauriel Tadorn." Watching the child lever S'aravi's mouth open sent all the captives into laughter. "She seems to like you a lot, Khajiit."

S'aravi huffed her agreement. "Where are my manners? I am S'aravi." She introduced herself before being forced to open her mouth again. Nauriel tapped her largest teeth, watching intently as S'aravi's throat swallowed.

With her jaw as far as it would go, Maethel took mercy and stopped Nauriel. Able to close her mouth again, S'aravi licked her teeth. "Do you know who these people are, Maethel?"

"They're Tevinter slavers." She answered, looking behind S'aravi for the slavers. "The have a trade system outside Tevinter that takes people from the human cities and, if they can, us Dalish."

"Two things I didn't catch about that, Maethel." S'aravi stopped her, "What is Tevinter and Dalish?"

"Tevinter?" Maethel twitched, "Well, it's a place owned by mages, they're called Magisters there." She pointed to herself. "And the Dalish are elves who seek out our lost history; those of the Dales and the ancient elves."

"I'm sorry, but I've heard of none of those things." S'aravi admitted her ignorance. "In my home, Tamriel, we have elves too, but not Dalish. There are the High Elves, or Altmer, the Dark Elves called Dunmer, and the Wood Elves, called Bosmer. You're much... smaller then those races though."

"Really? There are elves in your home too?" Maethel looked excited, "But no Dalish; well, as long as there _are_ elves. They are City Elves then?"

"City? Well, the Altmer and Dunmer all live in cities as they built some of the major cities across Tamriel too. The Bosmer though, we keep away from them." S'aravi winced, "Due to their Green Pact with nature, they only eat meat. This includes encouraging cannibalism. Which no other race takes in stride."

"Oh." Maethel chuckled nervously, "I wouldn't take that too nicely either. What do you mean that they build major cities too?"

"Well, the Altmer, High Elves, built up most of Skyrim. It's their land, their home, but they are a part of the Imperial Empire." S'aravi had never _been_ to Skyrim, but she heard it was quite cold and if Bruma was anything to go on, then she had no doubts of its icy temperatures. "Skyrim is a grand place, so I've been told, but I have never visited before."

"Where do the other elves come from? Those Dunmer?"

"Dunmer hail from the northeastern territory. It's quite... dangerous. Morrowind is the Dunmer homeland and the only one that allows slavery. I've come across those slavers before, but nothing like these."

The girl yawned, resting her head on S'aravi's chest. "Ah, poor thing." She patted the girl's head, more then happy to serve her as a pillow. "I will be honest Maethel; I do not intent to become a slave."

Maethel nodded, "Neither do I. We Dalish are a proud people, yet I cannot endanger the lives of these people."

"Then endanger mine, Maethel." S'aravi rested her chin on the girls read, speaking in whispers. "I am the Champion of Cyrodiil and as such, I cannot allow these Tevinter to begin stealing our people. I've had enough trouble trying to end the Morrowind slavers from doing so; there will not be another threat like them."

"As much as I agree, S'aravi. We are without weapons, shields, or even a mage. We stand no chance against their numbers." Maethel replied sadly.

With a bright smile, S'aravi held out her hand. "In my homeland, Maethel, everyone has the ability to use magicka and we Khajiit naturally have weapons." Showing her claws in the light, she sparked a fire in her palm. "Lucky for you, I am not only a Champion, but an Archmage and the Guildmaster of the Fighter's guild."

Observing the flame, Maethel nodded once. "Then we stand a chance, S'aravi."

"That we do."

An elven man behind Maethel came forward. "Find me a dagger and I can be of service, _Champion_." He offered. More came forward, elves and humans alike.

"Not all of us can fight, but we will not go quietly. I would rather fight and die then suffer the humility of becoming one of these scum's slaves." A human woman whispered, until finally, all the slaves were offering their aid.

"Then we will fight, my friends." S'aravi petting the young girl's back. "When they move us, we have the best shot then. I have no illusions that some of us will die, perhaps even I will fall; we must try though."

"I agree. We're nothing without our names." Maethel pulled her leg up, unsheathing a hidden blade. "It's old and... not actually a weapon. It's used in ceremonies, but it'll do. It will have to do."

"We must attack them alone. Maethel, with that dagger, you can silence one quickly yourself." S'aravi could see the plan forming in her head, "When we are moved, Maethel you will... fall with exhaustion. A slaver will try to stir you, no doubt, if you can take that, he'll try to dispose of you elsewhere."

"How do you know he won't just kill her on the spot?" The elven man interrupted.

Maethel shook her head, "It doesn't matter, friend. This must be done. I won't see these children slaves."

"Once away from us, deal with the slaver, take his weapon. I've fought against worse odds, give me what he carries and I can use it." S'aravi claimed.

"Are you sure you can fight? You're not in the... best of condition." She nodded to S'aravi's wounds. "I'll try to heal them before we are moved. Worse wounds have not hindered me from battle, of this, I assure you."

"Then we're doing this?"

"We must, if only for the young ones." S'aravi ran her hand down Nauriel.

The other captives tried to find solace, trying to find a way to better their current situation, but most were civilians and S'aravi knew it. "What about us? What do we do?"

"If you are in chains, you escape together. If you are in ropes, I or Maethel will cut them and you will all escape separately. If we are to be carried by wagon, then I will clear the way, then you will run. No matter what though, you have to run as fast and as far as you can." S'aravi couldn't reassure them this was safe. So she wasn't going to lie.

"Some may die, or be injured, but if you work together; most will survive. Do what you can; Maethel and I will distract them as much as we can until we can no longer see you."

The elven man sighed, "I suppose this is our only chance, I'm not about to pass it up just because it's suicide." He chuckled darkly. "If I get my hands on a bow or bow, I can help. My father was an expert archer; he passed his skills onto me."

"Then you'll be useful, but from a range." Maethel smiled to the elf, "Heal S'aravi, if you need us, we will be right here."

Maethel coaxed Nauriel from S'aravi's lap, allowing the Khajiit to use her skills to heal.

Running her hand over the wound, S'aravi focused on them. Her skin began stitching together, forming a natural connection. The wound hurt less, but ached still. S'aravi wasn't at her best, the wounds would be there for weeks, perhaps even a month, yet she strained herself further.

She couldn't fail this. Elves, humans, children, and one Khajiit. A Champion of all things. She had to succeed, if not herself, for Nauriel and Maethel. Giving hope to these people could cause even more damage then simply becoming slaves.

Trying to preserve her dignity, S'aravi sat straight and kept her posture. She'd win this fight, free these people, even if she died herself.

Maethel would return to her people and Nauriel would find a new home. These captives, they'd see their families and homes again.

S'aravi could promise them this and that was all she could do.

It would be difficult, taxing, and with S'aravi's already worn body; it would more then likely kill her. Healing these wounds was taking too much out of her as it was and not once in her life had she become tired from restoration magic inflicted on herself.

She needed her rest, to conserve her strength. More then likely, they won't be staying at the docks for very long.

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><p><em><strong>Don't worry. It gets exciting in the next chapter.<strong>_

_I hope you enjoyed, reviews are always nice! ;)_


	3. A Hawke

**_Misdirection_**

_By Kaimaler._

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><p><em><strong><span>HEY! You want news on my stories?<span> Or maybe you just want to chat. Come on, there's a link on my page! Follow me on Twitter under the same name; Kaimaler! :D**_

* * *

><p>Suddenly, as S'aravi had expected, the plan had to change drastically.<p>

The slavers weren't taking any chances with the Champion of Cyrodiil who happened to be a giant, sentient cat with claws, teeth, and spite for slavers that could move mountains.

They put the other captives on a wagon being pulled by two oxen while S'aravi had to walk. She would bound in chains, her hands were cuffed behind her, her ankles chained together, and she was weighed down with a large iron shackle around her neck, two chains served as her leashes and the slavers holding them were on opposite sides, making sure she couldn't go any direction in attempts to escape.

When the others saw them clamping the cuffs on, they knew the plan would change, but it'd still happen.

For this purpose, they had Maethel sit on the very edge of the wagon, so when she '_passed out_', she would go over the edge and catch the attention of their captors.

S'aravi was out of their plans now, she was locked down tight, any attempts to free her now would end in disappointment and time was freedom right now.

Maethel started to act tired, rocking back and forth before finally, she tumbled out of the wagon and onto the dirt road. The slavers called the wagon to a stop, investigating the accident.

"She looks out of it, sir, do we keep her or toss her?" The slaver was on his knees, trying to examine Maethel's form. "Is she breathing?" The slaver nodded, "Then throw some water on her and put her back with the others. If she does it again, kill her."

S'aravi now saw their leader. Donning rouge armor, the slaver wore a black cloak. His daggers could be seen just barely and S'aravi knew they had to find a way around him.

A slaver took out his water bottle and splashed water on her and took her back to the wagon.

It was now or never.

Maethel lashed out, taking the unsuspecting slaver's weapon while sinking her own ceremonial blade into his chest. The reactions were stunning. Slavers from all sides readied their weapons and Maethel threw the short sword she stole from the slaver to another captive.

The slaves all began to move, taking whatever was nearby to fight with.

S'aravi _had_ to do something; she couldn't sit on the sidelines and hope for the best. She wasn't at her best, the wounds weren't healed completely, and her body fared no better against the humid sun of this rocky coastline the slavers took them too.

Letting out the loudest roar she could muster, S'aravi yanked her neck from the shocked slavers; only one still held her metal leash and the other scrambled to reclaim his lost chain.

Making a bad situation worse, S'aravi swung the slaver closer, snapping her jaws on the chain he held and pulling with all her might.

It distracted a good number of slavers from the captives. S'aravi was the gold egg of this group; she'd sell to the right Magister for the largest amount. _She _was their main investment and the leader knew now that, with her fighting back, she also knew it.

Taking out his daggers, the leader came straight for S'aravi.

"Maethel! Get the others and go! I'll hold them off." S'aravi took only a second to order Maethel to escape before being bombarded with slavers. The Dalish stopped, listening to the command. It was a death sentence, if Maethel or the others weren't there to help S'aravi, the slavers would recapture her.

If they decide to capture her instead of kill her for loosing their shipment of slaves.

She knew better then to argue, it had to be done. Maethel began pushing all the slaves to run, to flee from the battle while she and a few other armed slaves defended them,

S'aravi was still held by slavers. With every turn, the chains would whip around her, usually away from slavers trying to regain control of her, if she was lucky though, the hefty chains would hit a slaver, not caring that it barely did anything. It was a time spender; it made things harder for them and better for her.

Even though Maethel knew S'aravi was risking it all for them, she wouldn't let go. Nauriel would escape, Maethel was an adult; she'd fight to the end.

"S'aravi!" Maethel cried, lunging her blade into the back of a slaver. "I'm coming!"

"You need to run, Maethel." S'aravi growled. _Stubborn woman_. She smirked, watching Maethel fend off a slaver.

There was at least seven left, not including the leader who had vanished from S'aravi's sight. She didn't like that at all. While trying to free her hands, S'aravi kept backing away from the slavers, eventually ending with her back against a stone wall; prohibiting her thrashing when the chain was locked between the rocks.

Stopping her dead in her tracks, Maethel saw the encroaching slavers on S'aravi. It forced her onward, to fight harder. S'aravi was barely conscious when she met Maethel and the Dalish woman could easily agree she wasn't keen on the idea of beast races; but S'aravi fought for them, Maethel would fight for her too.

As tired as Maethel was, she pursued the slavers to S'aravi, slashing as hard as she could. The slavers were skilled; experienced in slaves refusing to go quietly. This fact unnerved her, made her wonder exactly how many slaves they had defeated and forced back into servitude.

Maethel was about to reach her new friend and, in her rush to reach S'aravi, failed to notice the slaver's master reappear behind her.

S'aravi could only watch as Maethel was stopped, a blade protruding from her shoulder. It was a wound most fatal, but Maethel fell still breathing. Still alive.

Spurring S'aravi's anger, she fought against iron chains and slavers encasing her. She wouldn't surrender, but she wouldn't become a slave either.

It was a success though; the others were long gone since all the slavers were focused on S'aravi's chains to bother with a few common slaves. She's their money pit and they couldn't let her get away after all they went through to get her.

A Khajiit of any form or age would've been sufficient, but after they learned that a Khajiit baring the greatest title achieved in her land was living in a small hut outside their capital city? They had to have her.

Their leader went through days of hunting to find her and considerably longer to tail her. It would've been a lost cause if the leader hadn't noticed S'aravi's more recent laziness.

And _oh_ how she knew it too. S'aravi was becoming far too careless and the fact that slavers caught her because of this enraged her. She knew all this was her fault, but couldn't shake the feeling that, although she may die here, she still did something right. For the other slaves, they just regained their freedom; something none of them would ever take for granted again.

Sighing, S'aravi couldn't fight them anymore. Surrender was her only option; it would give the other slaves long enough time to distance themselves from the slavers. Her muscles burned in protest with every movement, they had struck her a number of times while trying to restrain her and it made it all the more difficult.

Maethel was on the ground, clutching her wound. The leader left her to die after that and came through the slaver's surrounding S'aravi. "It's over beast. Stand down."

She couldn't save Maethel if she tried; her restoration abilities were strained by attempting to heal her own wounds the slavers gave her. Maethel was a brave woman, if a bit rash. She liked that though and, witnessing the Dalish woman's death, S'aravi hung her head.

"Good cat." The leader gestured to his men. They grabbed the chains, pulling the other one free from stone and once more, S'aravi was leashed. "Get her to the caves, we'll send out a party to Kirkwall in the morning to gather up as many slaves as we can."

S'aravi was led passed Maethel who had no more strength to hold onto her wound; she was nearly dead.

She didn't put up a fight anymore she was exhausted and her chains restricted her from even posing a threat. She never even hurt one of the slavers; just distracted them.

They had continued down the coastline for a little while now, the wagon continuing on now empty of the previous slaves. It was preferable though, they escaped and the two who volunteered to fall to the slavers had done so.

At least Nauriel was safe now.

It brought a sad smile to S'aravi's face; it felt far more selfish to say it failed when the slaves were obviously free. She just felt like saying it on account of Maethel's fall.

She was brooding, again, but she supposed that was fine. Life as a slave wouldn't be pretty, but it was better then the alternative. Which was all of them being slaves instead of one who just squandered her gifts and riches.

Now _that_ sounded even worse. _Defeatist_. S'aravi growled at herself. _Stop whining. Maybe you can help slaves escape as a slave yourself. You could become a thorn in their side. They'll regret making you a pet_.

"Hold!" The leader called, "We've been followed!"

S'aravi blinked. "By the Nine!" She smiled widely; she saw behind her a group of well armed warriors who looked like they could handle themselves.

"Who are you?" The leader demanded, coming between S'aravi's sight and theirs.

"Just a few friends who've found themselves a good time." Their leader answered, smirking at the slaver. "Release the slaves and you can go." It was a demand, S'aravi chuckled darkly at him.

"I would, if I was actually a slaver, good sir." The leader gestured to the empty wagon. With the slaves already gone, he could play off a different persona and get by without trouble.

"Then how come there was an injured elf on the road? The direction you came from." The lead man asked, he was speaking about Maethel. "The elf? What elf?"

That was a solid case. S'aravi sighed, if this man was seriously about to let them go because he didn't have slaves _right this second_, then she'd happily kill him given the chance.

"Then who's that?" Another man donning fur and robes pointed to S'aravi. None of them got a good look at her before, but now that they did... The man instantly regretting mentioning her. His feature openly expressed it.

"I'm a hunter of sorts; I tend to collect exotic animals." He shrugged. "This beast comes from a far away land; she's a rare find she is."

"Rare indeed." She barked, her throat dry and hurting, taking their guests off guard. "It talks?" The robed man remarked.

"Of course I talk." S'aravi groaned, her voice was cracking, making her words barely recognizable. "I'm not an animal like he claims. These people are slavers; you just missed all the action." She gestured back to the road behind them. "That elven woman on the road was called Maethel; she was to be a slave."

"I knew it; I was going to kill them anyways." The man smiled, "After all, there's no way to end a day like slaughtering a bunch of slavers, am I right?" He chuckled, taking up his greatsword.

"You'll live only long enough to regret this, boy." The leader unsheathed his daggers. "Get 'em!"

S'aravi was of no use here, she was already too injured and tired to fight back anymore. As they released her leashes and joined the fray, S'aravi collapsed onto her knees, barely registering the sounds of battle above her.

She was leaning over, her snout nearly touching the ground as her strangled breaths blew dirt up. As much as she wanted to help, she'd only get in the way.

The man who came to end these slaver's lives swung his sword around, striking into a weaker opponent. None of these slavers was on his level of skill or that of his allies. His greatsword could tear through their armor like parchment; it wasn't a challenge.

The slaver leader realized this just as he was about to be outnumbered and, forsaking the lives of his men, fled the battle. He wouldn't get anywhere by dying.

Just as the final few slavers went down, S'aravi felt the presence of her saviors around her.

"Are you alright?" The robed man kneeled down, trying to assess the damage done to her. "I will be fine, my thanks for rescuing me." S'aravi leaned up; it took all of her strength just to do such a simple task.

"Uh, not that I want to sound... offensive or the such," Their leader rubbed the back of his neck, "What, pray tell, are you?"

"I am a Khajiit." S'aravi replied, feeling someone's hands attempting to free her own. "My people hail from Elsweyr in Tamriel. We are part of the Imperial Empire. I'm actually from Cyrodiil, the heart of the Empire. My name is S'aravi."

"Pleasure to meet you, I'm Hawke." With a toothy grin, he pointed to his allies. "That there is Anders. That's Varric and this is Aveline." He introduced each one, pointing to each person around her.

"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you." The chains broke, but the cuffs were still attached. "I owe you my life; a debt I intend to repay."

"It's fine, S'aravi." Hawke was watching Aveline and Varric try to break the chains on her shackles. "Don't you worry yourself about it. I wasn't about to let them drag off anyone to be a slave; it's not my style."

"You are an adventurer, yes?" Hawke nodded, "If you want to call it that, yeah, I guess so." S'aravi heard the chains snap, she released a breath of relief. "I could be very useful to you. My skills with sword, bow, and staff are yet to be matched."

"All of those?" He blinked, "You're a mage then?"

"Not just any mage, my friend." Hawke offered her a hand up, accepting it; he pulled S'aravi to her feet. "I'm the Archmage of the Mage's Guild in Cyrodiil. As my position implies, I am one of the best mages in my homeland."

Anders chuckled, "How did slavers manage to catch you with Templars around though?"

"Hmpf, already back on them Anders. That's so like you." Varric joked, earning a playful glare from the mage. "Whoa, easy now, don't go all Justice on me."

_That_ deserved a worse fate. Anders threatened him silently, glaring intently at the dwarf. S'aravi, noticing this debacle, decided it best to ignore it. Like Hawke and Aveline were clearly doing.

"Templars?" S'aravi frowned at the unfamiliar term, "What's a templar?"

Glancing to Hawke, Anders answered, "The Templar Order enforces Chantry law. You're a mage right, from the Circle of Magi?"

"No, I'm from the University in the Imperial City. If a person wishes to build on their magicka then they go to the Mages Guild, if they excel and earn recommendations from each of the Mages Guild locations across Cyrodiil, they are accepted into the University." S'aravi explained, holding up the iron shackle around her neck. It was difficult to breathe with it on, much less talk.

"Boys, you can talk later, right now it's best we try and get that thing off her." Aveline interrupted and looked to the iron shackle S'aravi was struggling with. "This thing is massive; why would they do so much to one person?"

"If they knew she was a mage, probably to discourage spell casting." Anders shrugged, "Like the Qunari."

"They know fine well who I am and hunted me because of it." S'aravi choked out, "Chancellor Ocato will not be pleased to know a neighboring nation had kidnapped their Champion."

"Wait, hold on now." Hawke shook his hands, "A mage and a Champion? Are you making this up so we'll free you? We were going to do it anyways."

"Why would I do that?" S'aravi took little offense to his suggestion. "If I was telling a lie, then why did they chain me up when they put the other slaves on a wagon? What possible use would I even have for lying?"

Hawke bit his lip, "Not sure. Seen stranger stuff though, so I don't doubt it could happen."

"True." S'aravi agreed, "I wish I had my effects with me so that I could prove it to you, but alas, I am without anything." She looked down at to her lack of attire. "More literally then I like."

"We need to get her to a smith or someone equally talented with metals." Aveline sighed, "It needs a key but I'll assume it was on the man who fled the battle."

"Their leader; mostly likely." S'aravi answered, "I have to ask, where am I? I was carried by ship to get here, so I find myself in a very different land."

"You're in Thedas, near the city of Kirkwall." Varric spoke first, "Probably a long ways from Tamriel or... that other place you mentioned."

S'aravi looked around to the death slavers, finding one with a cloak and yanking it off of him. Pulling it around her shoulders, she let it fall to cover her completely. It would suffice, but not for long. It had a few blood stains which would be more then suspicious to the local law.

Probably get her arrested.

"I fear that, without my money or supplies, finding a ship to return me to Cyrodiil will prove a difficult task." S'aravi bowed to her rescuers. "You've done enough for me. I won't ask more of you."

"It's no trouble S'aravi, really." Hawke stepped forward to the Khajiit, "You're stuck in a new place with a bunch of people who will more then likely try and kill you on sight. I guess you're kinda' lucky you got us instead of some other do-gooder around here."

"Are there no beast races here? Khajiit or Argonian?" It was hard to believe, for as long as she could remember, the beast races remained one of the more common people. They were everywhere in Cyrodiil. "Would no one give me a room?"

"No." Hawke bared his teeth, wincing. "They don't even really like elves, much less a talking cat. No offense."

"None taken," She _was_ a talking cat. Khajiit are the feline beast race after all. "Then it would be a better idea to allow you to find me a place to... stay while I'm here."

"Good!" Hawke cheered, stunning not only S'aravi but his companions. "Then it's decided! We'll take you to Anders clinic first, he can heal you there and after that we'll find you a place to stay; no problem. That okay with you Anders?"

"She does need some work..." Anders had seen her wounds before she put on the cloak and with her fur hiding any bruises, most of her injuries were hidden. It would take work, but he could do it.

"Hawke," Aveline demanded, "The shackle?"

S'aravi was still trying to find a comfortable position to hold her head, but the large iron shackle came about an inch of her jaw bone, it was very annoying. "That would be the best course of action, I do believe."

"Yes, shackles first then." Hawke looked to Varric, expecting an answer.

Varric, just now seeing the entire party was looking down at him. "What? Just because I'm a dwarf means I know a blacksmith?" Hawke didn't look convinced.

"Yeah, you're right." Varric groaned, "I may know someone."

Anders returned his attention to their freed Khajiit, "Can you walk fine? I saw your injuries and I'm not sure how long you can go with them."

"Is there another option I am unaware of? With these iron braces, my weight and size, none of you could even hope to carry me and you have no other means of transport."

Hawke stepped beside S'aravi, "Then put your arm around our shoulders, we can at least lift you." S'aravi did so, throwing her arm over Hawke's shoulder. "I admit, I am feeling very... weak after this whole ordeal."

Anders joined them, bending down slightly and pulled her other arm over his shoulders. "There, that should do."

"Alright, you guys follow me. He's over at the docks, working out of an old warehouse." Varric waved them to follow, "Think of this as exercise, to get you ready for the Deep Road expedition."

"Oh, great." Hawke huffed, rolling his eyes at the dwarf.

"Don't use that tone with me boy, I'll tell your mother you went to the Blooming Rose the other night." The dwarf threatened.

Hawke gasped, "Hey! I didn't do anything! I was there to collect information! Y-you can't do that!" Varric cackled, "I bet she'll be thrilled to know her son is hanging out with a bunch of fine _ladies_."

"You evil, little dwarf. I'll get you for this." Anders laughed, "You two; like a couple of lovebirds."

"I'm sorry S'aravi, but you got stuck with a group of adolescent boys." Aveline smirked, "They'll grow on you; up until they break the law."

"I get it Aveline, I'll behave."

He shuddered, "He broke the law _once_ and Aveline never let him live it down." Anders remarked.

"Shut up, Anders." Hawke growled.

S'aravi sighed; this was going to be a _long_ journey.

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><p><em><strong>Hey whoa! Beware! <strong>My Wordpress spellcheck is on the fritz! Give me a heads up if there's a few misspelled/typo'd words here or there. I'll fix them! :D_


	4. The City of Chains

**_Misdirection_**

_By Kaimaler._

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><p><em><strong><span>HEY! You want news on my stories?<span> Or maybe you just want to chat. Come on, there's a link on my page! Follow me on Twitter under the same name; Kaimaler! :D  
><span>AND I'm on Facebook! Link on my userpage or look for: Caitlyn Miller!<span> I'd love to see you guys there!**_

_**Review Replies:**_

_**K.E.R.P:  
><strong>Why thank you! Everyone went the smartass route with Hawke; _everyone_. So I just continued this theme and made Hawke react in the way any player would want._

_We'll be facing more and more troubles concerning her being Archmage in the future. Right now, however, they'll just scratch the top of the mage life in Cyrodill. As we progress, we'll see them comparing mages in both lands. As I said though, it's not much right now._

_The life of an Imperial Citizen will, of course, shock them. For now, though, we must acquaint our characters with each other. :)  
>Thanks for reviewing and I hope you enjoy this chapter!<em>

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><p>They were arriving just outside the city walls, S'aravi looked towards the cliffside, where ships of all kinds docked. This city was massive, much larger then the Imperial City in Cyrodiil.<p>

The giant walls and statues made the city seem less of an actual _city_ though and more of a home for slavers. The weeping bronze statues of warriors overlooking starving people worried S'aravi; she'd rather die then be a part of the slave trade.

"S'aravi." Hawke called to her from up ahead. After she regained her strength, S'aravi was able to stand without trouble and insisted she do so. "Keep your head down; we don't want to draw attention to ourselves."

Anders nodded, "And do something about your tail; Varric can't keep his eyes off of it." Aveline sighed, looking to Varric. "Hey, I'm just worried it'll hit me!" He was standing to the side of S'aravi as he had been the entire trip.

"Then move out of the way." Aveline smirked, "It's not that easy, the damn thing follows me wherever I go!"

S'aravi turned her head to the dwarf, pulling her tail under the cloak stolen from the deal slaver. "There, better?"

"Yes, thank you." Varric brushed of fur. "Now how do we get you in the city without anyone... uh, _seeing_ you?"

Hawke stepped up to S'aravi, when she looked back to him, she nearly jumped. "You're a giant talking cat, you have a snout." Hawke glared ruefully at her muzzle, "The cloak's hood can cover it, but only if you're careful and hold it down."

Staring back to Hawke, whose eyes were still fixed on her long nose, grabbed the hood and pulled it down. "I can do that, but I have fur covering my entire body not to mention claws; someone will notice my hand holding the hood."

"True." Hawke went straight for his pack; the very same S'aravi noticed that he dispatched food from on the journey back. "Here, I have some gloves; I don't know if they'll fit though."

He held out a pair of black leather gloves, they looked a little big for her, but it was necessary. "My thanks." S'aravi was right; they were too big. They bagged slightly, though it would work.

"Okay, just stick close and watch for thugs. Varric; you know where this guy is so you lead the way."

Nodding, the dwarf enjoyed the change for once; leading Hawke was an achievement.

As they walked through the city, the sun was setting just above the walls; S'aravi felt the open land close on her. It was an enclosure; a place meant to keep those a part of the city inside of it. The giant stone walls served as homes instead of the usual decorative structures of the Imperial City.

With tiled ground, empty streets, and the threat of unseen assailants; S'aravi thought this place even worse.

In the Imperial City all guards served the Empire and its people; not those with more coin then the next. Guards were supplied with a home, food, and had the freedom to have a family.

Here, in this city, it seemed that the guards couldn't care less.

Ever since they entered the city, S'aravi hadn't seen a single guard. If they didn't guard at night and thugs ruled the streets; what kind of poor guardsmen could they be at day?

"Where are the guards?"

Hawke glanced to her, "What do you mean? They're on patrol."

S'aravi shook her hands in front of her, to single the misunderstanding. "I mean why are they not at their posts?

"They're on patrol, S'aravi." Aveline interrupted, "I know their routes, there's a patrol that will come down this way later; but they should be on the opposite side of Hightown right now."

"This city must be low on guards. If I was eligible, I would look to join them." S'aravi remembered Imperial guards patrolling every road even outside the Imperial City. Inside of it though there were dozens of guards patrolling, at posts located by gates or buildings. S'aravi couldn't go five minutes without saluting a guardsman.

"Kirkwall has enough guards; they're all doing their job." Aveline continued to fight in their defense, S'aravi felt it best not to pursue the topic with her.

Hawke snickered, "She _is_ a guard, S'aravi. On her hours off she joins us."

"What about your city, S'aravi? How many guards are there?" Aveline wanted to protect the Kirkwall guards' reputation. What was left of it anyhow.

"If I even attempted to avoid the guards I would only run into more." S'aravi smiled, "The Imperial Empire ensures that all of its people live peacefully. Of course, crime rates exist but the punishment for a guard who accepts bribes or turns a blind eye is a traitor's death. It is unacceptable if a guardsman turns on his country."

"That's a little... extreme, isn't it?" Hawke cringed, "Not really. Guards are guards, if they fail at their job either the offender was a necromancer, the Gray Fox, or they are put into questioning."

"So you have trouble with necromancers to?" Anders asked, completely changing the subject; he was aware of this and knew Aveline well enough to know she'd defend her fellow guards until they break into a fight.

"Kind of." S'aravi shrugged. "It was made into forbidden magic after the last Archmage made it so. It isn't anymore though; necromancers are allowed to study at the University like any other mage now."

"See, this is where I get confused." Hawke ran a hand through his hair, "Mages aren't kept in this University?"

S'aravi looked to Anders, "He isn't locked up. If this is such a problem, why is Anders here?"

"I escaped, multiple times in fact." Anders smirked, "Some aren't so lucky as I am though... And wait, what do you mean by necromancy isn't forbidden anymore?"

"I changed the law."

Hawke blinked, staring wide eyed at S'aravi then to Anders, who was throwing S'aravi a confused expression. She didn't seem bothered, if she even noticed them. "I became Archmage after my predecessor sacrificed himself so I could fight a very powerful necromancer named Mannimarco."

"How would his death help you?" Anders was thinking over that; nothing seemed to make sense.

"He trapped himself in a colossal black soul gem so when I fought Mannimarco I would use the soul gem and give myself an advantage over him." S'aravi smiled contently, "His name was Hannibal Traven. He hated any form of necromancy. While I agree with his outlook, I've removed most of the strict laws he placed. Necromancy is now allowed to be studied without being called a criminal."

"Necromancy is dangerous though; it could hurt a lot of people." Hawke sent a worried look to Anders; he was very active on the _Free Mages_ rebellion.

"Of course, just like conjuration and destruction magic, but those aren't forbidden."

Anders allowed himself a smug smirk. Finally someone who understood; after all this time, he wasn't sure anybody could anymore. Practicing how to make a firestorm more effective or a lightning bolt more deadly was the same as the forbidden magics.

That didn't mean he wanted those forbidden also.

"That isn't the same thing." Hawke's comment shattered Anders thoughts. "If someone summoned a demon it would destroy everything in its path against the will of the mage! You cannot compare one to the other."

Anders frowned, he gave Hawke that one. Yet there were so many arguments against that. Is Hawke more dangerous then a mage? Anders was sure he was; and if Hawke was a mage... The damage he could do if he dealt with a demon would be catastrophic. Hawke is powerful enough as it is with a giant sword attached to his back.

Then, bypassing all of Anders expectations for their new furry companion, she said exactly what he thought he'd never hear another person say in all his life.

"If a warrior goes to the tavern to relax and drinks himself into a stupor; when angered, isn't that great warrior just as deadly as necromancy?" S'aravi shrugged, "Or say a loved one dies and he slips into a blood rage; does this make him a monster or just another person who has more strength then others?"

Hawke looked drearily to Anders, the knowing look he sent Anders made him smile. "It isn't the same though. That _dangerous warrior_ can be corrected; punished for his wrong doings, whereas a mage possessed by a demon cannot."

"Is death not the ultimate price?"

Anders blinked and Hawke was silenced. Aveline stayed out of the conversation; hearing enough out of Anders as it was and Varric was never interested in the affairs of Templars and mages.

This time, even they shared in Hawke's silent defeat.

S'aravi was right and she knew it. Even if this talk of demons possessing mages was very strange to her, as it didn't happen but on extremely rare occasions. Perhaps mages learned to block these demons out after generations? Maybe the Imperial Empire was simply and Empire built by mages?

She knew her home; there wasn't a mage that could be questioned just because he or she was a mage.

This conversation had ended for now, but she knew it would reappear in the future if she stayed around Hawke and his companions. Mages seemed to be a focal point in Kirkwall.

S'aravi was concerned about the bronze statues that decorated all of Kirkwall. They seemed to imply the depression of this city.

Not something she wanted to think about. S'aravi was stuck here, this much she knew, and it would take a long time to return home. In order to survive and find a ship home; she'd have to live here in Kirkwall, know the people; befriending Hawke was the best idea. He was the only person who looked like he knew what he was doing.

They passed through these higher streets of tile and statues to a much darker district.

Dirt and grime began appearing on the walls, no longer was the ground covered in treated stone, but bare and felt like soft dirt under her feet.

Descending down a large flight of stairs, S'aravi was met with a strong gust of wind carrying the familiar scent of ocean water. They were at the docks of Kirkwall; Varric was now trying to tell the specific warehouse apart the many others near.

After a few moments, S'aravi heard Varric gasp in achievement. "Here we are." He had led them to an old warehouse at the docks, he had told them that he knew someone who could help them remove the Tevinter collar and S'aravi found herself begging inwardly that this man could do so.

The heavy metal cut into her skin, bruising her collar bone and neck. The discomfort was nothing compared to the sheer weight of this iron shackle that forced her to constantly adjust her posture. Too far straight and it rested on bone, too far forward and it threatened to drag her to the ground, to far backwards and she would loose balance. Nothing she did could offer her solace from the contraption.

S'aravi was shocked out of her attempts to position the collar more comfortably when Hawke stepped in front of her. "Hold on a second. I don't want to sound crude or anything, but you're not exactly an elf."

Blinking unsurely, S'aravi agreed. "No, I do not believe I am. Why?"

"There are no... talking cats here. If we approach this guy and tell him all about Tamriel and Cyodell; it'll raise some brows." Hawke suggested, earning a tired look from S'aravi. "It's Cyrodiil."

"Yeah, that place." He pointed to her with an apologetic smile, "Any ideas? We can't scare this guy off and, honestly, anyone would be terrified of a giant speaking cat. We haven't seen any backlash yet 'cause you're wearing a cloak and hood, but... It could easily escalate into something I really don't want to deal with."

"Good point." Varric rubbed his chin, "He doesn't like elves as it is, a talking cat wouldn't be any different."

"I'm a Khajiit." S'aravi corrected, her statement going unheard.

"Then we tell him exactly what the slaver told us; she's an exotic creature from a far away land." Anders shrugged, "She's your pet and you need a collar off."

"That's one epic collar, Anders." Hawke said matter-of-factly, sending the mage a questionable look. Reluctantly, Hawke sighed in defeat. "It'll have to do, I mean, what other choice do we have? Introduce a new race to Thedas? I'm sure that'll just blow over." He remarked sarcastically.

With an amused huff from Varric, he continued. "Yeah, about as much as the Blight did."

"Alright, S'aravi's my pet; she'd got some kind of extreme collar that needs to be removed." Hawke looked worriedly over to S'aravi, "I guess that could work. I'd believe it."

"Because Hawke, you're as gullible as the Dalish." Varric snickered, "He asks, go with the pet thing, after that, I'll tell him to shut up."

With a contented huff, Hawke nodded. "That'll do."

S'aravi wanted this collar off more then she wanted to keep what little dignity she had. Apparently nude Khajiit's weren't common in Kirkwall.

Her fur was a mess, covered in dirt and blood, patches had been torn out not only because of the cuffs and collar, but due to the struggle she had with the slavers. Lack of nutrition had made her loose strength and her usual fearsome attitude to criminals.

She was as dangerous as a timber wolf; if someone wanted her hide to warm them while they slept, it wouldn't be a challenge.

Hawke entered first, with his companions and their freed slave in tow. Hawke kept S'aravi close as they delved deeper into the building while Varric searched around for his contact's signature workspace.

It wasn't until they reached the main room did they find their smithy.

"Varric, why am I not surprised?" The blacksmith sighed; he carried a hammer on his shoulder, wore thick leather overalls, and had all forms of grease over him. As messy as he was about his workspace though; he made fine tools.

"Now, don't be like that." Varric grinned, "I have a little... favor to ask you. You owe me, Alend, remember that."

"Yeah, I know." His hammer fell off his shoulder, leaning on his leg. "What is it this time?"

Hawke stepped up, "It's for my friend here." S'aravi joined beside him. "There was a mix up with a few slavers and... this is what happened."

S'aravi glanced to Hawke, her hood and cloak still on as she decided that Hawke must've sacrificed skill in lying for talent with steel. She wouldn't say a thing; after all, she was supposed to be playing an exotic animal who Hawke owned as his pet.

Ignoring her pride which reared its head ferociously, S'aravi allowed Hawke to reveal her to the smithy.

It was difficult trying to quiet her ego. It had built sometime after Martin announced that she saved him to the Blades and after saving Bruma, earning a statue of her inside the city. Ego had become her strong suit if nothing else right up until Dagon.

Wincing, S'aravi reminded herself not to think of such things. Martin once said her emotions played openly on her face; she couldn't hide what she was feeling if she wanted to.

"What the hell is that thing?" The smithy stayed back, but squinted as if to see beneath her fur.

If it was hard to tame her pride beforehand, then it just became near impossible. She suppressed a telltale growl and perhaps a long string of explicit words indicating this man's ignorance and close mindedness.

Yet she resolved, she had a very short temper that became apparent to her after failing her first mission given to her by the Brotherhood.

"This is a Kahgit." Hawke smiled wirily, sending an apologetic look to S'aravi before continuing. She couldn't correct him here, not when this smithy was her only hope of getting this collar off of her. "A very rare creature from the East! I'm something of a collector of exotic animals."

"Exotic, eh?" The smithy seemed to have the right amount of idiocy to believe Hawke's attempt at acting (which would be considered an insult to the entertainment committee) and enough brains to succeed at metal working. "Then why does it stand up like a human?"

That was more of an accusation then a question. The smithy turned to Hawke with a stoic glare; even S'aravi admitted she hadn't seen such a still expression. It was like he expected nothing and yet everything.

"Alend, just remove the shackles." Varric smirked, "Hawke will even pay you."

Alend, the smithy, snorted. "I wanna' know how expensive this thing is before I tear those iron's off. If it's worth my best tools or if I can scratch it up a little."

Hawke shook his head, "No! Do your best, there's one sovereign and thirty silver in it for you."

"Two and fifty silver." The smithy replied quickly, Hawke felt like he was in to position to bargain; he was dealing with another person's life here. If S'aravi couldn't be free of those shackles... who knows what trouble they'd cause her. Not only inconvenience, but Hawke knew they must've been painful. The Tevinter slavers didn't skimp on the safety of their own skins when dealing with such a strange creature.

As a child, Hawke was taught that if someone were to ever try to rob him, his coin wasn't worth his life. That silver or gold, no coin could equal up to someone's life; S'aravi was no exception just because she wasn't what would be considered _normal_ in Thedas.

"Fine, you have a deal." Hawke released a lung full of air, "Just make sure you can get it off her."

"Yeah, I'll get it off." The smithy nodded, turning back to S'aravi. "Come with me, mutt."

S'aravi nodded her thanks indiscreetly to Hawke and he returned it with a polite wave. Being led away by the smithy, S'aravi was taken into a room full of tools and unused metals.

Hawke waited patiently outside with his friends, listening to the sound of metal grinding against metal that emitted from the adjacent room. S'aravi would be completely free of her chains and time with the slavers. That made the two sovereigns and fifty silver worth it.

"What is bothering you Hawke?" Aveline was leaning against a wall, next to where Anders had taken a seat on a crate and Varric fiddled with Bianca; probably trying to wipe off any dirt that attached itself to his beloved crossbow.

"Why would you say something was bothering me?" Hawke asked, giving Aveline a reassuring smile.

Varric chuckled, "Perhaps it is because you have been pacing ever since Alend took S'aravi into the other room."

With a lazy shrug, Hawke glanced back to the closed door. "Oh, I'm just thinking about the many terrible things she could be doing to him behind those walls. She does possess some sharp teeth and claws, mind you, I don't think she'd let him off that easily with those remarks he gave her."

"You don't know anything about her." Anders looked drearily to Hawke, "Do we even trust her?"

"Maybe, maybe not." Hawke said nonchalantly, "It doesn't matter. She was going to be a slave; I'm sure she went through hell just to get here. I don't care if she's evil, right now all that matters is freeing her, healing her wounds, and clothing her."

"She needs clothes." Varric shivered, "I don't care if she is a giant cat covered in fur; walking around naked must feel weird."

"Given." Hawke laughed, "Once she comes out, we can see about getting her some clothes. I would ask you, Anders, if you could heal her wounds. They looked bad when I saw them."

"They are." Anders remembered spotting the jagged cuts along her abdomen and back. A few other cuts decorated her fur like the stripes that came natural to her furry specie; but nothing as eye catching as those two large open wounds. "Nothing I can't take care of though."

Anders vaguely remembered looking at the collar around her neck, it was heavy and without a single pin. It was like it was all one single piece of metal that had been molded onto her neck.

A loud metal clank stunned Hawke and his companions out of the conversation, he expected to hear something from S'aravi, but nothing else came. A few quieter sounds, metal meeting metal slowly and the sound of an extremely hot metal item being dunked into cool water; creating a loud whistling sound until Hawke was sure nothing had gone wrong.

"I sure hope this doesn't take long." Hawke crossed his arms, "Those shackles didn't look too hard to get off."

Anders pointed to his neck, making a circular motion. "But that collar looked like more. The shackles on her ankles and wrists had a metal pin holding them in place, but didn't you get a close look at the collar? It was just a thick slab of metal, no lines whatsoever. I was like it was molded that way."

"Magic you mean." Hawke smirked, "Do you believe that those Tevinter slavers used magic to detain her?"

"It is a possibility. I... didn't try to take a closer look at it. I just realized it myself."

Hawke hadn't taken a closer examination of her shackles, he was still too shocked by her race to try and form a coherent thought. Then when she told them she was a mage? That didn't help.

"Does it matter?" Varric interrupted them, "It's metal which ever way you look at it and a blacksmith is really good with metal." He snickered, earning a slightly amused look from Hawke and an annoyed one from Anders.

"It does matter, Varric." The mage argued, "If it was magically welded that it could be magically secured. If that is the case, then no smithy could crack it. It would require a mage or someone who knows how to dispel magic."

"Then you can do it." The dwarf hooked Bianca onto his back, "You've dispelled magic before; I've seen you do it when we fought those blood mages!"

"The Tevinter's know more about magic and the Fade then anyone. If I know a strong enough spell to remove the collar then I could do so; I'm just not so sure I know how to affect Tevinter magic. It's very powerful and not hindered by the laws against blood magic." Anders had talent in many fields of magic. The Tevinter Imperium knew more then all other lands combined.

"Blood magic." Hawke gave Anders a worried look, "If that collar is welded by blood magic, I will not ask you to remove it Anders."

The mage gave Hawke an appreciative smile before Aveline stopped their arguments.

"You are all assuming that the collar is welded by magic; maybe it's just a basic iron shackle like the ones around her wrists." Aveline picked up a metal hammer, "It could just be another old metal restraint like any other."

"That is right Aveline," Hawke sighed in relief, "See Anders? You were getting worked up over nothing."

Anders stared blankly to Hawke, "Wait, what? I was worried? Hawke you were-" Varric barked in laughter, "Leave it Blondie, Hawke's just venting... In his own way." Anders caved, surrendering Hawke's accusation that Anders was concerned and Hawke wasn't.

The Lothering refugee was a hard headed bastard, Anders always thought of him as such. Hawke would never give up a fight or pass an opportunity to aid a distressed citizen. Or noble who had enough money to buy Hawke; so long as the latter didn't involve the former.

Loud clanking could be heard from the other room and the cursing of one particularly pissed off blacksmith.

The door swung open, slamming into the wall as Alend stormed out of the room, S'aravi leaning on the door frame.

The massive collar still around her neck while the shackles on her wrists and ankles were gone. Hawke felt his eyes roll back in pain, Anders' was right. Tevinter slavers would never let such a valuable slave be bound by chains alone. It just wasn't enough for them to cause misery to anyone forced into servitude.

They had to practically glue those forsaken chains on before they felt the slave was in enough depression.

"Who the hell stuck that bloody thing around its neck?" The smithy demanded, "It won't melt, or dent, or crack. It's tougher then a dragon's hide! It's riddled with lyrium!"

The group was still, stunned from the revelation. _Lyrium?_ Anders had more knowledge on it then anyone here, he knew that lacing any item with lyrium would be dangerous if it contacted skin and to remove it? Much, much harder then they originally thought.

"Eh, yes. Thank you Alend, was it?" Hawke stepped forward, taking out the coin, "Your payment is in order, we will be going now. Come on S'aravi." The companions were ushered out of the way of the angered smithy.

"Yeah, yeah. Just get that thing outta' my sight!" Alend cursed, "It was giving me the evil eye."

Hawke chuckled lowly, urging S'aravi out the door.

As the group dodged the enraged blacksmith, Varric burst out laughing. "He sounded like someone just spit in his soup."

"He attempted everything at his disposal, Hawke." S'aravi's considerably different voice stopped the companions. "He was right though, it would not react to anything he did. He even burned me in his frustration to get it off. He is a very dedicated blacksmith."

"Alend? Dedicated?" Varric huffed, "Nah, he's just mad that you'll have to go find someone _better_ then him. That's what is eating him up."

"I should've paid him less for it then; he didn't get the collar off after all." Hawke grimaced; he needed to spend his coin more wisely. He still needed those fifty sovereigns to get him into the Deep Roads.

"If it's magic, then maybe I could do something about it." Anders offered, exactly what they had discussed earlier. He wasn't sure if he could, but he'd try anyways.

Aveline nodded, "Perhaps, Hawke, it's time to send her to Anders clinic? She needs to be healed before anything else."

Hawke inclined his head to the wounds that had barely healed on S'aravi's body. Just before she pulled her cloak on and tied it around her. She smirked to Hawke; allow him to decide her fate with or without the collar.

"I can take care of those without a problem; it's the collar I'm concerned about." Anders pointed out, "We're all concerned about the collar, Anders." Hawke was tempted to touch the cold metal around S'aravi's neck, to get a feel for what metal it was. Iron? Probably, but if laced with lyrium it could be just about anything.

"To Anders clinic then, I'm sure S'aravi would prefer breathing without pain." S'aravi sighed quietly, allowing this group of strangers to decide her fate.

It wasn't easy, now that she thought about it. Hawke, Anders, Aveline, and Varric were all strange people to her. With extreme views on magic and the mages who practice it, the guards (or lack thereof) who patrol in the shadows; away from danger apparently.

These people could be horrible adventurers who were trying to help her based on how much gold they could make afterwards.

If that was true, they wouldn't try so hard to find out how to remove her collar. They hadn't even asked for a reward... yet.

Or, if they did ask for one eventually, and they were good folk who stuck their neck out for a random person. She didn't want to lead them on, she had claimed of her position as Archmage and about her home land. Perhaps that was enough for them to assume she had coin with her?

She didn't. At all in fact, all of her supplies were left in Cyrodiil, or looted by the slavers. If Hawke expected payment for his actions, then he'd be disappointed.

In any other case, she'd be more the happy to reward someone for saving her and though no one aside from Martin had ever saved her life.

Everything that has happened was more then enough for S'aravi to feel like, had Hawke and his motley band of do-gooders not come alone, she would be dead. Slavery was not an option; she'd either fight to the death or give the slavers a reason to kill her.

Looking back, she was broken spirited enough to feel that slavery may not have been so bad.

Feeling an unpleasant growl, she calmed herself. It was only due to Maethel's death combined with S'aravi's injuries that weakened her resolve.

As she thought, S'aravi wouldn't allow Hawke to help her if he expected a reward for she had none to give anymore. In Cyrodiil, S'aravi would've awarded him a house, land, perhaps even a title. He'd be a person of interest in whatever land he did so choose to remain.

This was not the case.

"Hawke," S'aravi stopped him, earning the attention of the entire group. "I am thankful, I assure you I am; but I will not take advantage of your kindness."

"Wait, what do you mean? You're not taking advantage of anything." Hawke was a little more then alarmed at S'aravi's statement. She sounded like she was bidding them farewell.

In a city that has never heard nor seen a beast race, S'aravi's wandering around by herself would be a very bad idea.

"I cannot award you for your efforts and I will not allow you to assume that I do have the funds to do so." S'aravi explained, "Back home, had you saved me there, I could've given you much in return for my safety as would the High Chancellor. I am a person of great importance in Cyrodiil; my life may mean theirs as well."

Aveline shook her head, clearing up this situation between S'aravi and Hawke.

"She means, Hawke, that she can't repay you. She doesn't have a coin to her name in Kirkwall." The red haired guardswoman grinned gratefully to S'aravi. "But she doesn't need to worry, does she Hawke?"

"Coin? As payback?" The warrior ran a hand through his hair, "It's not all that important. I can get coin from helping random people around Kirkwall; I don't expect you to pay me S'aravi, I hope that we can get you out of Kirkwall back to your home."

"And you would do all this for a stranger? Not only a stranger, but a creature you have not seen before?"

Biting his lip, Hawke glanced S'aravi over. "I'll admit your... appearance is very, very different. Still, that doesn't mean I would just leave you in a foreign city to fend for yourself. I've freed slaves before and captured dozens of criminals; I have time to help out someone in dire need."

"I am in dire need, that much I will submit to." S'aravi could feel the dull throbbing of her wounds still; even though she had been attempting to heal them as she gained strength back. "If you do not expect so much of me, then why do you aid me?"

"Because... it's the right thing to do." S'aravi had the distinct impression that this came naturally to him. His demeanor when he answered her was phrased like he had thought she knew of such things. It was far rarer to find a man with so noble goals then one who'd want coin for his actions.

Kirkwall was turning out not to be so bad.

"Then, as my honor dictates, I must repay you in one fashion or another." S'aravi took her places as Champion very seriously. Regardless of what land she may find herself in, or what company she has voice in; a Champion always paid their debts.

"We can think about this after Anders' patches you up." Hawke rested a firm hand on S'aravi's shoulder. It was bruised, so the tight grip hurt, but she didn't speak up. Only winced as he shook her shoulder roughly. "Come on, friend."

It was a pleasant surprise, but it wasn't one S'aravi would squander.

Following Hawke, it was time to heal her old wounds and afterwards, she could reclaim a piece of the dignity she had lost while she traveled without clothes.

She'd pay her debt in kind; as her life had been taken by the slavers, it is now in the hands of her savior. In order to take back what was once rightfully hers, she would make Hawke respect her as a warrior, mage, and Champion.

A life-debt can only be paid with a life.

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><p><em><strong>Hey whoa! Beware! <strong>My Wordpress spellcheck is on the fritz! Give me a heads up if there's a few misspelled/typo'd words here or there. I'll fix them! :D_


	5. A Dispute of Will

**_Misdirection_**

_By Kaimaler._

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><p><em><strong><span>HEY! You want news on my stories?<span> Or maybe you just want to chat. Come on, there's a link on my page! Follow me on Twitter under the same name; Kaimaler! :D  
><span>AND I'm on Facebook! Link on my userpage or look for: Caitlyn Miller!<span> I'd love to see you guys there!**_

_**Review Replies:**_

**_K.E.R.P:  
><em>**_Hey thanks! :D_

_Yeah, Hawke in this story is rather predicatable... But that comes along with video game crossover territory! The familiar is what fanfiction gamers want I suppose; for those are the stories that get the most attention. Most people played with the humorous options rather then the "ANGERRAGEASSHOLE" answers or even the do-gooder answers. So I felt that incorporating Hawke's comedy would balance well with S'aravi's slight depression._

_Ohhhhhhh, S'aravi won't like the Chantry. That's a no-brainer right there! xD  
>Not even the Chapels across Cyrodiil have power; they are there to aid the prayer and service to the Nine. Not to dictate political and national actions. Heh, the Dragon Age universe is crazy. :)<em>

_Here it is! Over 9,000+ words! :D_

**_Cindar:_**_  
>Why thank you. :)<br>I hope you enjoy this latest installment. I know it took some time, but I had a few issues with the continuity that I had to fix before publishing.  
>Better now and with more words! 9,000+ words! :D<em>

**_minaseiko1:  
><em>**_I'm glad you like it so much! I'm hoping that with more chapters, more readers will appear. As well as the old fanfiction rule: "More reviews equals more readers."  
>So thanks for helping out! This chapter is super long, so grab a drink and relax! :)<em>

**_Sphinxes:_**_  
>I thought this one was better also; it seems more realistic and dramatic then the last one. S'aravi was always my favorite Khajiit playthrough in Oblivion so I decided to work on this one the most. :)<em>

_I hope you enjoy this lastest chapter!_

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><p>Any damage associated with the collar S'aravi found her neck trapped in and her flexibility limited was beginning to become trouble and not just to her. Anders had been trying to heal all her wounds since they arrived in Darktown (what creativity with naming these Kirkwaller's had) and he began to look over her injuries.<p>

Aside from the fact that he never worked with someone who had fur covering their entire body, Anders also had difficulty trying to assess just how these wounds came to be.

Apparently, the magic in Thedas wasn't only less effective then the practices they had in Tamriel; they also lack the ability to heal regardless of what ailed the victim of the wound or illness.

Another reason S'aravi was thankful she was from Cyrodiil, where she studied extensively on restoration magic due to how much of her life was spent excavating caves, slaying vampires, and slaying beasts of all kinds. Restoration magic had pulled her out of worse situations then this.

Anders now inspected her carefully, looking over the cuts he could see, the patches of fur that were missing that suggested foul play and injury. He reluctantly pressed on certain parts of her, trying to see the extent of the damage done.

So far, the only wound Anders healed was her arm, which was clearly only suffering from an infection gained when in the chains of the slavers.

As for the shackles that were on her wrists and ankles had cut into her skin due to the fight she put up when she and Maethel freed the other slaves. Anders was currently focusing on them, trying to work out exactly how much he can use compared to how much damage S'aravi had.

Taking two bottles of a strong blue liquid that S'aravi recognized as magicka restoring potions, she thought, and stood in front of her.

S'aravi was sitting on this wooden cot with a worn down blanket covering it for comfort. Anders placed his hands over the worst wound she took from the slavers.

It was the same refreshing feeling S'aravi got when she went to a Temple of the gods to heal and be blessed by them, sometimes even forgiven for her sins. As the restorative magic flowed through her, she felt the dull throbbing of the old wound slowly diminishing, until it was finally no longer there.

All that was left was a messed fur and a thin bald line in her fur. That was fine so long as she didn't have to worry about infection, pain, or limited movement.

He continued assessing wounds and injuries that were clear to him, but after those were all and good, Anders paused. The worst were taken care of, now he had to turn his attention to that which he could not see.

This resulting in a few interesting sounds from S'aravi as he poked and prodded her, trying to find the problems.

Hawke snickered as S'aravi let out something near a cat cry and a high pitched bark. "Oh sorry." Anders cringed, watching S'aravi huff in annoyance. "Can you not just _heal_ me instead of all this?"

"I have to know what the problem is before I can treat it." S'aravi sighed, snatching one of the magic restoratives from Anders. He resisted momentarily, "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I'm an Archmage and the only thing keeping me from healing myself is my exhaustion; but if this is how the mages here use the restoration magics then I'll be here all day." Uncorking the bottle, S'aravi put it up to her lips and knocked it back, letting the cool liquid sooth her throat and send her mana soaring.

Unfortunately, this restore magicka potion was the worst S'aravi ever tasted, it was even very weak; suggesting it was a bargain restore potion. One S'aravi always made sure to sell to the nearest general store; it looked better as a decoration then it did as a potion one would use in battle.

Dropping the bottle from her lips, S'aravi coughed. "This is the _worst _restore magicka potion I have ever had. It's disgusting." She rolled her tongue, sucking it in hopes to rid her mouth of the awful taste.

"That's a greater lyrium potion, it's very high quality." Anders took the bottle back from her, "And if you didn't want it then you shouldn't have drank it."

S'aravi, ready to reply with her quick wit, was silenced. Her mouth slightly agape, her finger pointing to Anders who stared back, waiting for her reply.

It wasn't that she didn't have an answer, a smart comment to make, it was something he said rather; what is _lyrium_?

With a prideful grin, Anders set the bottle down on the other side of the cot S'aravi sat on. "Speechless, hm? Hawke would've at least delivered some kind of off handed joke before ignoring my arguments altogether."

"Not quite, mage." S'aravi smiled politely, aware that only her eyes and ears conveyed her feelings to them; not her mouth as a Khajiit's smile was almost always unnoticable by other races. "I have _plenty_ of things I could say to you; I am only wondering what you are talking about. What is this lyrium you mentioned?"

Dumbstruck, Anders stood there with his arms crossed, staring at S'aravi blindly. "Lyruim? You mean an archmage, like yourself, or as you claim, doesn't know what lyrium is?"

"I claim with rights, Anders." S'aravi tilted her head, "But in all my years and all the years the Arcane University has existed, no one has even made mention of this _lyrium_. If it is indeed a magical tool used by mages here in Kirkwall, then this technique does not span seas I'm afraid."

"Fine then." Anders waves his hand, dismissing his own initial shock. "It's a precious mineral, after it is mined it can be ground into dust and with a distillation agent can be made into a potion, like the one you just tried to drink. It is a way to augment reserves of mana."

"It is a restore magicka potion then?" S'aravi asked rhetorically, "It's quite weak. I assume, like our magicka potions, that there are stronger, more potent potions?"

Anders glanced to the half-drunk potion bottle. "That was a greater lyrium potion, like I just told you. There are few better then it."

"I see." S'aravi sighed, feeling her magicka slightly restored, she took matters into her own hands.

Raising her hand in front of her, making a fist, she drew upon her restoration magics. Her hand shook and a blue light emerged from her palm, building up until she opened her fist, releasing the healing magic to flow down her arm and into her body. The resonating blue and white light spiraled down her arm until it disappeared, but S'aravi felt the effects of her spell.

Feeling physically replenished, S'aravi noticed a few more injuries that required attention. Anders stood by, watching how an archmage casted and how a mage from another land used spells.

To Anders, seeing another mage who is not under the same oppression as those in Thedas was interesting, but seeing her complete lack of regard for anyone around her seeing her as well as he only added to his curiosity.

Casting her restorative spell a few more times, S'aravi felt able bodied once more. Something she missed terribly.

"That is all I must do, any other little cuts or bruises I've sustained will heal themselves over time." S'aravi stood from the cot, "My thanks."

"A thank you? I didn't _do_ anything; you obviously could take care of all this yourself."

S'aravi looked to the potion at her side, "Thank you for the lyrium."

Anders chuckled, "Okay, you're welcome."

Hawke had left them a little while ago, apparently he and his brother were trying to find some way into one of their previous homes. S'aravi couldn't even make sense of this before he left her in Anders care.

* * *

><p>"<em>Hold onto her, would you? Me and Beth have a date with a few slavers.<em>" _At this S'aravi blinked, not quite understanding what he meant nor who Beth was? Perhaps a girlfriend? And why would anyone go on a date with slavers?_

_"What do you mean, Hawke?"_

_The warrior smirked, "Slavers own what used to be our home before it was gambled away by a very unthankful uncle of mine, so me and Bethany are going to go get it back. Bye now."_

_S'aravi's gaze followed him as he left the doors to Anders clinic to rush back into Lowtown, which was apparently where Hawke resided with his family. After he left her sight, S'aravi was still quite unsure as to what just happened._

_"He does that sometimes," Anders stood beside her, his arms crossed and a goofy grin plastered across his face. "Drags us along for the ride then walks us home like children right before he bids a quick goodbye and he's racing off to his next adventure."_

_"I do not understand." S'aravi's brow furrowed, "Who is this Bethany? Why are slavers living in their home? Did they allow this? And who-"_

_"Stop there!" Anders gasped, as if trying to escape her questions. "Let's get you fixed up, then we'll discuss Hawke and his crazy family."_

* * *

><p>S'aravi looked up to Anders, who was staring at her strangely. They realized only now it had been a few moments since either said anything and it was quickly becoming awkward.<p>

Clearing her throat, S'aravi ended the staring contest.

"So what is this about Hawke and his family?"

Smiling, Anders relaxed considerably. "I forgot about that. Yes well," Anders pulled up a chair, sitting next to the newly healed patient that... really didn't need his healing. "Hawke is from the country to the south of Kirkwall. There is -excuse me- was a farmland down there called Lothering where Hawke and his family lived."

"What do you mean there _was_ a farmland? They don't just disappear." She smiled slightly.

"It was destroyed by darkspawn, not exactly the... lightest of topics. Hawke's father and brother died attempting to escape the dawkspawn, but they didn't get far. From what Hawke says, and don't believe a word of it, he rode a dragon to the northern most of Ferelden then took a ship to Kirkwall." Anders laughed, "Hawke says a lot of things, I think not even half of it is true."

"Forgive me for this, as I already have enough questions about my saviors, but... What are these darkspawn you speak of?"

"There are none from your home?" Anders saw S'aravi shake her head in reply, "Lucky you."

"I am to assume that they are dark creatures, perhaps corrupted dragons to earn such a title." S'aravi raised her brow, if it was a creature worthy to be renamed as _darkspawn_ then it would make sense if it was a twisted dragon that lost its way.

Then again, dragons have kept to themselves for quite some time back home; would the dragons of Thedas not be so tamed?

"No, not exactly." Anders geared himself up for a tale, "The Chantry tells us that darkspawn were created by the hubris of men. That when the magisters of the old Tevinter Imperium entered the Golden City, they offended the Maker, and brought evil and corruption to it. Due to this, they were cast out and turned into hideous monsters that we call darkspawn."

"So... the sins of man created monsters?" S'aravi found this hard to believe, "What are magisters? I know of the Tevinter, I was to be a slave of them, but this Golden City? I've never heard of such a thing."

"Religion is a very hard thing to discuss." Anders shrugged, "So many people disagree on it."

"I know that as truth, Anders." The Champion sighed, "But how could people offend a god, and I am guessing this _maker_ is your god, when a deity knows more about us then we do of them?"

He blinked, "I'm... not sure."

"Then there is a loophole, a missing fact of your story. Perhaps someone told it wrong."

"Or maybe human nature is offensive to the Maker?" Anders tried, earning a disapproving shake. "Oh how would you know? You didn't even know who the Maker was until I told you! Even then, have you ever met a god and asked him what he thought of us?"

"I have never _met_ a god," S'aravi put on a scowl, "But I have spoken with many."

_That... is a little off putting_. Anders gulped, "With many? How many gods do you have?"

"I have nine; the Nine Divine, though I have never spoken with them as I have the Daedric gods, I do know a number of the daedric lords; I have held conversations with Sheogorath and met him in person." She explained, it was true that the Nine Divine had never attempted to contact her personally; but she knew from the battle in the Temple of One that she had been their instrument to stop Mehrunes Dagon.

"Daedric lords? Somehow those don't sound like benevolent gods." If fact, to Anders, they sounded downright evil. He didn't know if he should believe that these are actual gods she spoke of or just extremely powerful people who've been corrupted by a taint. She seemed to thoroughly believe they were gods though.

"Daedra are terrible creatures and they live in a world beyond our own; they have not been seen in a very, very long time." S'aravi winced at her own mistake, "Until a few months ago that is when the gates to Oblivion, a realm ruled by the daedric prince of destruction Mehrunes Dagon, had allowed a flood of these creatures and more to terrorize our lands."

"Oblivion gates?" What had this feline sentient done in her home land? It sounded more dangerous then what they were planning on doing. Gods? Not only that but corrupted gods that live in a realm beside their own?

"They are massive, fiery doors that open the way to the realm of Oblivion; it is how Mehrunes Dagon attack our homes, slaughtered countless people, and nearly destroyed our kingdom." S'aravi answered, "And when I said I've never spoken with the Nine... that may not entirely be correct."

"Hold on a moment," Anders shook his hands, "So an evil god just comes out of his dimension and _nearly_ destroys your kingdom? If he is a god why didn't he just smite you and be done with it?"

"Wishing I had been _smited_, Anders?" She chuckled, "He couldn't reach us because the Dragonfires were always lit, a holy flame given to us by the god of time; Akatosh. He is one of the Nine Divines and the only one I've ever seen with my own eyes."

"So you not only saw two gods, but one of them made it impossible for the other to..." Anders struggled to continue, "I'm sorry, maybe I'm just not hearing right, but... None of this makes any kind of sense."

With a slow shake of her head, S'aravi stopped the conversation with a final attempt.

"The Dragonfires were given to us by the dragon god of time, Akatosh. It was meant to stop the gates of Oblivion from opening, so that us mortals could live in peace." She ran a hand through the fur of her neck, "But there was a cult of daedra worshipers who serve Mehrunes Dagon and, for their dark prince, they assassinated the sons of our Emperor before killing the Emperor. Which, due to the law Akatosh gave us, demands that in order for the Dragonfires to remain lit so Oblivion doesn't come crashing down upon us in hellish rage, we need one of the dragon blood."

"Your Emperor has _dragon blood_?"

"Exactly and since he and his sons were slain, we no longer had one of the dragon blood to take the throne and light the Dragonfires; opening the way to Oblivion for Mehrunes Dagon to try and take our land from us."

Anders stared on for a moment, trying to process all this new information about this giant talking cat's home land. It was complicated, probably something he will never understand, but he was certainly trying.

As the seconds flew by, S'aravi became more and more concerned that she may have just broken what little sanity Anders had left.

"I'm sorry, but I'm still confused."

With a tired sigh, S'aravi shook her head. "Actually, never mind. Daedra are evil, Mehrunes Dagon leads those from Oblivion and the Emperor knows how to stop them. That's about all you need to know."

"Ah, that I can work with." He smiled brightly, glancing behind S'aravi as he spotted Hawke, Aveline, Bethany, and Varric approach. They seemed all a little tired, as if they had just returned from battling a gang of thugs on the streets.

Considering they were in Darktown, Anders didn't give that a second thought.

"Hawke." He greeted as S'aravi turned to see the warrior and his group behind her.

"Hey, how is she doing?" The dark-haired man came right up to S'aravi on the cot, trying to overlook the injuries she had before. "She's fine, did most of healing herself."

"She did?" Hawke looked questionably over to the Khajiit. "You did?"

"That is what Anders said, yes?" S'aravi grinned, standing from the cot and tying the cloak back on her. "If we are done here, I would hope I am privileged as to what we intend to do now?"

"Of course." Hawke smiled, he expected to return finding Anders tired and falling asleep after healing her, but since S'aravi did it on her own... Why isn't she more exhausted then she already is? "Well, my sister may be able to lend you some clothes, but you'll probably have to continue wearing a cloak. We'll get you a new..." He grimaced, looked at the state of the cloak she wore now, "... Blood stain free cloak."

"I would appreciate actual garb instead of this rag." She hated wearing the cloak as much as Hawke hated looking at it.

Bethany stared wide eyed at the talking cat; she was tying her robe on properly as Hawke addressed her. Everyone seemed perfectly comfortably with this creature's appearance, as if she was just another Kirkwall citizen.

In all the books she has read, none mentioned a race of intelligent felines. She would've remembered if they had.

"Excuse me?" Said Sister spoke up, "Exactly _who_ am I lending _my_ clothes to?"

Hawke chuckled nervously, "I know you're probably a bit... stunned, but she's alright." Her brother forgot she wasn't with them when they rescued S'aravi, "She's a... a... S'aravi, would you?"

He couldn't remember the name of her race nor her home; he'd got a few letters, but like at the blacksmiths, he couldn't put them in the right order. Sighing, he stepped aside to let S'aravi answer his sister's questions.

"I am S'aravi, a Khajiit from the Imperial Empire known as Tamriel." She bowed politely, "I am from the heartland of this Empire; Cyrodiil."

"You're a... cat." The dark-haired woman pointed out, "Are you... a demon? The only creatures I've seen that look remotely like you is a demon."

S'aravi chuckled, "I assure you, I am no demon." Her ear twitched, _demon_ was a word that popped up a lot since she met Hawke and his gang. "I have never seen nor heard of a demon in fact; until meeting Hawke I was sure they didn't exist, only myth told to frighten children from wandering into the forests."

"Then you just so happen to be a creature of a race I've never heard of, from a land I've never heard of, and you've never heard of demons?" She shook her head, "I just don't get this; Hawke, do you know about this place? This Cyrodiil?"

"Uh, no, actually, S'aravi's been telling us about it though." Hawke loved his sister and trusted her with his own life; if she was suspicious, should he be too? "Cyrodiil," Momentarily thrilled he pronounced it right, "Is a land across the sea, it is home to a lot of races. S'aravi's told us some things about it, but we haven't had much time to discuss it."

That was just like her brother too, jumping head first into trouble as usual. No surprises here. He knew next to nothing about this feline or her home, yet he took her with him regardless. Either Hawke's kind heart would kill him or he'd fall upon his own sword.

"If Bethany isn't comfortable Hawke, S'aravi can borrow some of my clothes." Aveline offered, knowing that between the Hawke siblings; Bethany was always the logical one. "That way you can have clothes," S'aravi nodded her thanks, "Bethany doesn't have to offer trust to someone she doesn't trust," Beth bit her lip, "And Hawke won't drag us out shopping again."

The group groaned collectively, Varric being the loudest of them all. Hawke frowned, "I don't take _that_ long to shop..."

Varric huffed, "If you took any longer Hawke, Bartrand would have time to leave and _return_ from the expedition without us." Hawke opened his mouth to make a complaint, but chose against it. Crossing his arms, Hawke let S'aravi approach Aveline.

As the guardswoman looked over S'aravi, she shook her head. "It won't be the best fit, but it'll do. If you intend on joining us, I'll assume you want armor?"

"It would be preferable." S'aravi spited not wearing armor; she had been donning the metal gear for so long it felt like a second coat of fur to her. Without it, she felt helpless and extremely vulnerable. "Something flexible, if you can. Right now, however, I do not feel I can carry such weight until after I rest."

"Of course." Aveline stepped out of the way, "Come, I'll take you to the barracks where you can dress in privacy."

"A barracks with privacy?" S'aravi raised her brow, "I wonder where all the guards are..."

Hawke chuckled, dismissing S'aravi's musings. "Well, let's go. I'm quite tired after killing slavers and maleficars." He stretched with a loud yawn.

"I'll see you tomorrow Hawke," Anders bid farewell, "I have a few clients in need of attention tonight. So we'll have to catch up in the morning." Hawke shrugged, "Alright, we're going out to the mines in the morning, so be ready for a trip."

"As always." Anders smirked, watching as the group left his clinic; the patient began taking this as a sign to approach their healer.

* * *

><p>S'aravi walked beside Hawke this time, feeling less exhausted and simply just tired.<p>

The day's events were numerous; it felt like everything had happened in one day. The death of Martin, Akatosh banishing Mehrunes back to Oblivion, hunting down vampires in the mountains, arriving home without the will to take her usual precautions, and finally that black bag that was slipped over her head.

Everything had been so rushed and S'aravi was unaware they were happening. By the time she looked back on the forced enslavement, the traveling, she realized it had been much more than just a week or two as a captive.

The damage done do her body wore her down, made her feel useless to stop them.

As she remembered drifting off in her home on the Waterfront, she knew that wasn't true. She could've easily silenced the slavers if she had been careful; if Martin didn't sacrifice himself...

S'aravi willed the thoughts of her friend away, though they refused to go. It was as if her memory of him kept him alive in her head.

She could still remember meeting him in the Chapel of Akatosh in Kvatch while daedra ran rampant about the cities ruins. It was dark and the threat of daedra kept them alert, terrified, and exhausted all at the same time.

Martin looked particularly lost; as if his trust in the gods had died out with the destruction of Kvatch. With their looming doom, S'aravi had greeted Martin as a Khajiit cub. A little weary, but oblivious to everything except him.

It certain made a bad first impression with Martin, who was seemingly offended by how she ignored the suffering of those around her to make time for this Imperial priest of Akatosh. She didn't feel like thinking about the daedra while she attempted to rescue the last surviving Septim. At the time, it was somewhat conceited, but she did it for good reason.

Freeing Kvatch from the clutches of the oblivion gate was a feat in and of itself; yet when it was cleared of daedra, the count found dead, and the survivors now camping just south of the city on the road. It started to dawn on her the severity of their mission.

Just not enough for her to stop being the lighthearted cub she was when she first met Martin. He admitted to her that it was rather amusing (which made him feel guilty) and it was one of her qualities; being able to keep spirits high even when all seemed lost.

Which, in Kvatch's case, it was.

Thoughts of Martin, Jauffre, Baurus, Uriel, Mehrunes, Sheogorath, High Chancillor Ocato; all people she came across in her travels. Some even depended on her decisions, Martin and Jauffre did especially. Whatever she chose to do would either save or fail the Empire and all of Tamriel.

S'aravi supposed that she was rather lucky she had so much training and skill before she actually attempted to serve her Emperor. Fighting daedra to close over two dozen oblivion gates took strength and endurance; she wouldn't have made it so far without the Dark Brotherhood, the Fighter's and the Mages guild, not to mention the Knights of the Nine and becoming Sheogorath's Champion; and _becoming_ Sheogorath.

Those all contributed to the battle to save Tamriel and stop Mehrunes Dagon.

"S'aravi?" Aveline interrupted her thoughts, "You'll have to keep your head down when we get inside, they won't pry, but I don't want to risk it." The Champion nodded, she was more than capable of keeping silent; it was the Thieves guild who gave her that gift.

She held her hood down as Hawke and his crew stood on all her sides, to disrupt sight to their feline foreigner.

When they approached the gates, S'aravi looked up to the massive doors that kept the barracks within. She didn't know if guards were so important in Kirkwall to warrant a massive castle-like barracks (even though they were lacking) or the barracks shared this building with another more important group.

Looking back to the separation of commoners and nobles, S'aravi rolled her eyes. Probably nobility that wanted guards on hand at all times; just in case.

As the doors opened slowly, as daunting as they were, S'aravi had to cover her head again as they entered the massive structure.

"This is the Viscount's Keep, it functions as his office, the guard barracks, and a way to publicly address the Viscount when he's available." _Answers that._ S'aravi nodded so he knew she heard, because with so many people around, S'aravi didn't feel comfortable speaking up.

Compared to the rest of the races here, her voice was coarse and sounded as if she was growling. It came with age, but S'aravi knew to these humans it would give her away.

Aveline now followed Hawke until they reached the barracks, where Hawke, Varric, and Bethany awaited outside of the bunk room Aveline lived in.

S'aravi was free to let her hood down and finally get a look around. Even though this was a small room it spoke wonders about how Kirkwall treated its guards. S'aravi blinked at the carpets adorning the floors, the paintings that covered the walls, the bunks which were made with dyed fabrics.

In Kirkwall, who wouldn't want to be a guard if _this_ is how they are treated?

S'aravi suspected that with this rather luxurious room, guards would become arrogant and quite full of themselves. She was now very thankful that guards back home weren't treated like these guards; it humbled them, made them neutral to the complaints nobles made and the crimes committed to the poor who had little to no defense.

With a smug smirk, S'aravi corrected herself. The poor who had the Grey Fox as their guardian and those who did wrong by them met a very unfortunate turn of events; like Lex did.

"Here, try this." Aveline gathered up some clothes from a chest at the foot of a bunk. "These are just plain clothes until you feel able bodied enough to wear armor; I'm sure Hawke will take care of that though."

S'aravi nodded, "Would you kindly..." She spun her finger around, signifying for Aveline to do the same. "Of course." The guardswoman turned her back to S'aravi as she dressed.

As the cloak fell to the floor, S'aravi was determined to make these clothes fit. She hated that cloak and the filth that stuck to it. The pants pulled on easily and with the belt, it was perfect; the shirt was a whole new problem.

S'aravi slipped the shirt on, only to find that Aveline's female physic was far more... _pronounced._

"Aveline, I would never ask something like this..." S'aravi tucked the shirt under the belt, "As a warrior, how can you fight with _those_?"

The redhead turned around to face S'aravi, discovering the sentient cat in her clothes attempting to hide the loose material around her bust. A faint blush rushed to her face and shaking her head, Aveline went to her chest for a vest, ending up with a worn leather vest she bought after arriving in Kirkwall.

"Here, try this." She tossed the leather vest to S'aravi, who put it on eagerly. Strapping it in place, S'aravi found it to fit properly. It was designed for a female warrior and, while very tight, it would work well if she found herself in a battle.

"Thank you, Aveline." S'aravi sighed, picking the cloak up from the ground and tying it on. She still had to remain inconspicuous.

With a curt nod, Aveline opened the door and regrouped with Hawke and S'aravi trailed close behind. "Anything fit?" He asked hopefully, to which Aveline smiled. "It's not the best fit, but it'll do."

"Good, because it's getting dark out and I'm tired." Hawke yawned, "It's time to go home. Mother will want to hear what we've got to say." Bethany sighed in relief, they had the will, now all that had to be done is reclaiming the estate.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Hawke. I have a night shift before I can rest up." Aveline received a little wave from Hawke, "I'll see you then, good luck on your patrol."

Departing from Aveline, they all left the Viscount's Keep, back into the streets of Hightown. Hawke wasn't kidding, it was beginning to grow very dark; S'aravi had no weapons to speak of, but she remained on alert regardless.

"Where are we going?" S'aravi couldn't resist her curiosity, she had to know where they were taking her. "Home, in Lowtown. I'm sure Gamlen won't like another visitor, but..." He looked to the piece of paper in his hand, "I really don't care."

Bethany smiled, "I'm sure Mother won't mind; she likes meeting new people."

"What about new races?" S'aravi chuckled, earning an amused look from Varric.

"That _might_ be a little harder to explain..." Hawke shrugged, "But she'll be fine with it either way. She's very understanding." He smiled proudly. S'aravi felt a little uncomfortable revealing herself to someone else after being told that humans don't really _like_ other races.

Even elves.

S'aravi clenched her teeth in thought, _Who doesn't like elves?_

On their way to Hawke's home, they came to halt nearby a local tavern with a large wooden statue hanging above the door. S'aravi stared straight to the rough carving of a corpse hanging from his feet. Why would someone hang this over their door?

"I'll see you tomorrow Hawke; be sure to stop by for a drink first though." Varric winked to Hawke, who replied with a small wave. "Goodnight Varric; enjoy the whores."

With a dark snicker, Varric left their company to enter this damp looking tavern.

"Come on then," Hawke caught S'aravi's attention, "Just a little further." Nodding, S'aravi broke sight with the odd wooden man and arrived at the steps to Hawke's shack.

When the door to Hawke's Lowtown home swung open, he was greeted by a particularly cross looking uncle and a defensive mother. They were arguing long before Hawke arrived, but he knew when this will was announced, this argument would take a whole new turn on Gamlen.

"-You sold my children into servitude." S'aravi now felt less like an intruder and more like a confused cub again. This was an argument over...? "Now you're asking me to pay rent?"

_Ah._

The man looked increasingly nervous as Hawke took his mother's side, like a veiled threat. "Uh, maybe just... put something towards food." He tried to rationalize why he asked of such things, to convince the rather large, sword-bearing son behind the older woman to not make a fancy hole in his chest with said sword.

"Gamlen lied to you mother," Hawke looked accusingly to Gameln, "We found the will."

At this, Gamlen shrunk away, as if trying to hide in the shadows of his dingy home.

"He forgave you mother!" Bethany strode up with the will in her hands, "Grandfather left you everything." Holding the worn piece of paper to their mother, "Here, read it." As her mother scanned over the page, Bethany smiled looking at the shock on her face.

"Aaa-ah. I should... maybe..." Gamlen was desperately searching for a way to escape this hole he dug for himself.

"To my daughter Leandra and all children born of her... the estate in Hightown and all associated revenues." Leandra, as S'aravi now knew her name, looked up in disbelief to her brother Gamlen.

Hawke spoke up, "Check out the part where Gamlen is left only a stipend - To be controlled by you." Their mother looked a little too shocked to deal with this news, staring at the will before sending the same disbelieving gaze on Gamlen.

"Gamlen, how could you?"

S'aravi suddenly felt like she was intruding upon a family rivalry that she wasn't invited to; she wanted to stay out of sight so she back away from Hawke's back and stood by the door; watching it all unfold while she thumbed the edge of her cloak.

"You're the one who ran away Leandra." He pointed accusingly at her. _Ran away?_ S'aravi blinked, "What happened to "love is so much more important than money...?" He was caught in a lie, his own fault, but apparently this argument went further than a will, money, a home, and sibling rivalry.

"It is!" She defended, "You didn't even come home for the funeral!"

_That was a fair point._ S'aravi knew this wasn't her business, but she would feel worse if she ignored it completely when it was so clearly in front of her.

Leandra looked slightly angry, "The twins were a week old!" S'aravi flinched, _Perhaps that wasn't a fair point._

"We all have our burdens," Gamlen sneered, "Mine was looking after a life you abandoned. How long was I supposed to wait?

Hawke was a very patient man, he allowed his mother to fend for herself as this was her family and she knew them best; but he finally got tired of watching. "I doubt you let the ashes get cold."

"I took care of father. I stayed!" Gamlen was enraged, he was trying to explain his place in this mess and it wasn't working so well. Now, Gamlen turned away, pacing. "And on his deathbed all he could talk about was Leandra."

"Look, Sister. I'm sorry." He faced Leandra again, "I shouldn't have done it, but I did. And there's nothing I can do to get it back."

Leandra didn't seem like a woman to hold grudges, "I don't expect that Gamlen. It's enough to know Mother and Father didn't die angry." She apparently decided to sweep this matter aside, "I'll petition the Viscount for rights to reclaim the estate. Maker willing, you'll have your '_house_' back within weeks."

"You don't have the coin or standing to even get an audience with the Viscount." Gamlen looked a little distressed, "You've got to be someone in this city to live in that house again."

Leaving Gamlen and Hawke, Leandra smugly replied to Gamlen's attempt to shoot down her idea. "Then I had better get started."

She was resolute, willing to do the work and that was more than could be said for many other poverty-stricken people hanging around Lowtown or even Darktown. S'aravi smiled as she watched Leandra go; she didn't even notice the extra body in the room.

Sharing a moment's glance between Hawke and Gamlen, both he and his sister chose to introduce S'aravi now while she felt triumph for having the chance to reclaim her family estate.

Ingoring the questioning look from Gamlen as the cloaked figure joined Hawke and Bethany with their Mother, Hawke rested a hand on his Mother's shoulder. "Thank you for finding the will; I feared that it wasn't possible."

With a slight nod, Hawke beckoned S'aravi over. Answering him, she stood beside him, her head bowed and the hood still hiding her face. "Mother, I have someone I want you to meet."

A little surprised, but hiding it perfectly, Leandra gave the newcomer a polite smile. "We should probably head into the other room..." Hawke looked over his shoulder to Gamlen, "For privacy."

Agreeing, Leandra joined her children in the far back room, closing the rotted wooden door behind them; catching Gamlen's attention. Just as the door locked shut, Gamlen approached quietly outside and listened in.

After all, it was _his _home and if there was something questionable going on, he wanted to know about it. Especially if it was profitable.

"Mother, it's best if you sit down." Bethany suggested and Hawke complied by dragging a chair to Leandra and seating her, "For our friend's sake, you cannot... uhm," Hawke cleared his throat while Bethany struggled for the right words.

"Just, please don't be alarmed." Hawke rephrased and gestured the cloaked Champion over to them; she followed obediantly, standing in front of Leandra and Hawke. "She's... different, but in a good way."

Bowing politely, the cloaked figure introduced herself. "I am S'aravi, I hail from Cyrodiil in the lands of Tamriel." She rose, "I am what we call a Khajiit; my people make up one half of the beast races."

Leandra blinked, confused. "I'm Leandra Hawke," She greeted, glancing to the worried looks of her children, "What do you mean _beast_ race?"

"Go ahead." Bethany shrugged, hoping for the best.

As S'aravi began to open her cloak, her tail appeared from under the torn fabric, catching Leandra's eye before scanning over the commonly clothed woman until the hood was pulled back and the cloak thrown over her shoulders.

Leandra's eyes went noticeably wide as she stared straight on the golden eyed feline standing before her. Fur, snout, whiskers, pointed ears, and claws; Leandra could tell that the large, well pronounced muzzle of this furred creature hid the massive fangs of a giant cat.

Tense, _alarmed_, but trying to tell herself to calm down; Leandra looked back to her children for an explanation.

She heard of animal-like demons; she had studied the Fade and its inhabitants deeply when she first learned magic ran in her family and when her beloved revealed himself as an apostate.

This strange feline didn't match the descriptions or illustrations painted on animal demons; she wasn't like anything she'd ever seen before.

"I assure you, I mean you no harm." S'aravi wanted to break this awkward silence, it was beginning to weigh on her. "Your son has offered me shelter during my stay in your city; but only if you allowed such."

"Mother, she's alright." Hawke attempted to steady his mother's growing discomfort. "She's a friend."

Leandra sighed, "Demons take many forms; how can you be sure this isn't one of them?"

Hawke knew, he just _knew, _they would end up talking about demons and spirits. "She wasn't summoned Mother; she was held captive by Tevinter slavers. Myself, Aveline, Anders, and Varric rescued her from a life of slavery. Unless the Tevinter know how to summon and enslave _spirits_ Mother, then she is no demon."

"I don't know about this... Tevinter Magisters can summon and ensnare a demon." Leandra kept her appearance though and, if Hawke was right, she wasn't about to kick a stranger asking for shelter on the streets just because she didn't find their appearance appealing. That didn't mean she would accept this foreign creature as she would another human or elf.

"Mother, please understand." Bethany was on Hawke's side; though she found no reason to trust S'aravi, she also had no reason to not trust her. Judging S'aravi's person would come later on, when the time came for the Champion to repay Hawke.

"If I may?" S'aravi stepped forward; receiving a shrug from Hawke, she continued. "Your son saved me from becoming a slave and then returned my dignity; I am in a heavy debt to him. I seek nothing from your son or this city; I only wish to offer my services to Hawke, as my debt decrees." S'aravi tried to sound as honest as she could, but knew her coarse voice outweighed the sincerity.

Leandra looked to her son and daughter who both worked for S'aravi, both vouching for this feline creature.

It seemed the odds were against her.

With a tired sigh, Leandra surrendered. After arguing with Gamlen about her father's will and discovering the true heir to the Amell fortune all took its toll on the older woman. "Fine, but make it known that I do not like this."

"Thank you mother." Hawke let out a breath of relief. Bethany just smiled to S'aravi, who was more than pleased to remove the dirty old cloak now that Leandra allowed her to stay.

"If you desire it, my lady." S'aravi hung the ragged old cloak over her arm. "I can tell you about who I am, the land I hail from, and my people. It may give you comfort to know I am no _demon_ and instead part of a race that exists in a faraway land."

"It may," Leandra took note of the manners S'aravi displayed, "Perhaps I will one day. For now, I need to rest; this has all been quite eventful."

"Of course." Hawke smiled, his eyes following his mother out of the room.

S'aravi was relieved to know Leandra didn't spite her for what she is and permitted her to reside within the home Gamlen was almost ran out of. With a content grin, Hawke interrupted her thoughts.

"Now, all we have to do is deal with Gamlen!" He laughed, earning a loud groan from his sister. "But... That is best saved for another day. Come on, I'll show you where you'll sleep."

With a nod, she was shown the entire shack, from top to bottom, the building was in ruin, yet it was a home nonetheless. Gamlen had gone to the local tavern and Leandra was resting in the other room.

As much as Hawke wanted to give S'aravi a proper bed, he knew letting her sleep in the same room as Leandra was pushing their good luck. Instead, he pushed for a small worn down bed in the opposite room.

It wasn't pleasant, but Hawke assured himself that he'd find a way to give her a proper bed in the future.

"Goodnight, Hawke. I appreciate all you have done for me." S'aravi stared warily to the dusty bed covered in water stains and grime. "I will see you in the morning, I suppose."

"You will; g'night S'aravi." He waved as he closed the door behind him and prepared himself for sleep.

It wasn't anything like home; this was the first thing S'aravi made notice of.

She missed the gardens of the Imperial City, the kind folk of Cheydinhall, the ever vigilant guard of Skingrad (and even a few nights visiting the Count.) Bruma was cold, but overnight, Kirkwall's stone walls were frozen solid. Like giant blocks of unforgiving ice being licked by the shores of the local port.

Layawiin was nicer then Darktown; Anders held a small clinic there for the people who had no gold. It was a charming, romantic thing to do, but one S'aravi fine well knew would never last. Unless, of course, these guards keep up those so-called _patrols_ and completely ignore the illegal makeshift medical facility in the lowest district around.

S'aravi enjoyed the fantasy of the clinic for the poverty stricken beggars who littered the streets.

Unbuckling the belts from Aveline's loaned clothing, S'aravi relaxed into the squeaky rotten bed, yet sleep never found her.

It was as if all the noises within all of Kirkwall kept her awake, the dogs, the people, the street thugs, and the sound of gold being exchanged between these thugs and the _guards_ of Kirkwall.

She certainly hoped Aveline wasn't one of these guards; it would be awkward for a servant of the Nine to condone the wrong doings of any sworn guardsman.

Blinking, S'aravi realized it was so easy to forget who she was over the events of the few days, weeks? How long had it taken for the slave ship to arrive at Kirkwall?

A Knight of the Nine; Knight Commander S'aravi, the Crusader who slayed Umaril in physical battle and in the clouds above Cyrodiil, staring down to the city below that raced up to meet her as she fell when the great battle between them had finally ended.

Also a Champion of Cyrodiil, one who dons the armor only Emperors arm themselves with. It was an impressive feat no doubt.

S'aravi wondered if High Chancilor Ocato would've readily given her such a prestigious title had he known she was Lord Sheogorath? The Daedric Lord of Maddness who ruled over the Shivering Isles.

How would one entertain a mortal god?

This rusty old bed wasn't doing the trick, but it was certainly amusing to think of where she was in Cyrodiil (or the many other realms that she had traveled to) and compared that time to the present.

If someone informed her of this drastic change in roles, she would've laughed. Not in arrogance nor would she do so haughtily, but in reality; who could ever believe that a Madgod, Knight Commander, Champion, and countless other titles she earned through hard work and skill, would end up in a dingy rundown shack in the middle of a xenophobic foreign city.

As much as she missed her Crusader armor and the luxurious feeling of her silk sheets and feathered bed in Rosethorn Hall; she knew immediately that all these material goods were not what she ached for.

It was the security and love she felt when she arrived in the Imperial City and stared hours on end at the avatar of Akatosh; the very one Martin sacrificed himself to call upon when Mehrunes Dagon entered the Temple of One.

Every time she was there watching the statue as if Martin would come walking out from behind it, she could swear she felt his presence or that of the great dragon god of time. Maybe it was just her, just the statue that was once Akatosh's avatar sent to save the mortal world from the tortures of Oblivion.

Perhaps she was imagining things, but she preferred the idea that Martin was looking down upon her beside his father, Uriel, and their fathers.

She hoped they were proud of her; that Uriel knew he had chosen well when passing the Amulet of Kings to deliver to Jauffre. That Martin still felt the same love for her as she does of him.

It was never truly spoken, S'aravi never actually admitted it to Martin; after all, with Mehrunes Dagon threatening to break down the door to the mortal world, when would be the right time to state such a thing?

One night, alone, in the Cloud Ruler Temple, S'aravi found a peaceful moment. After retrieving the Great Welkynd stone, S'aravi caught Martin admiring it. It was beautiful and to her it only made Martin all the more handsome.

She hated herself for approaching him like she did, but with Baurus just outside, she hadn't much of a choice.

It was night, the only thing that lit up Martin's room was the Great Welkynd stone she brought to him.

With the bright sky blue glow illuminating the room, S'aravi snuck up beside him as he was so enraptured by the magical stone to notice her. She never said anything, but when he had realized she was beside him, watching the stone's light and the dancing particles of magicka it emitted. He only smiled to her and she did so in return.

They never said a word, but made sure they both knew how much they cared about the other.

It was a lovely dream to disappear into; one of a tame passion that S'aravi remembered so well. Like it was yesterday, he wasn't skilled per say and neither was she really. She'd been swinging a sword and bashing helmets with daedra so long that gentle touches were difficult and required undeterred concentration.

In truth, that only heightened their experience.

And... looking back on that night alone, S'aravi figured that Baurus must've known what happened. Jauffre too, but no one made mention of it. No _"He is to be Emperor and you're a commoner"_ or "_He's a priest of Akatosh and you a theif, a murderer, and a warrior; everything a priest stands against._"

Then again, as their only hope for closing the Oblivion gates, S'aravi could tell that Jauffre wanted to speak up; but no one wanted their hero to disappear at the time they needed a hero most.

The hours flew by as S'aravi drifted into a sleep dedicated to her memories. The Grey Fox, passion, Mehrunes Dagon, Sheogorath, transmogrification, Umaril, Lucian Lachance, Countess Valga... It seemed so much of Cyrodiil weighed on what she chose to do and whom she chose to help.

Maybe Cyrodiil would learn to stand on its own while she was in Kirkwall, to solve its own troubles while she was away.

Kirkwall. What a strange place with an even stranger name. It bore no meaning, it was as it is. A city full of walls and poverty; and denial if you look to the politicians who control this city.

So... if Aveline was a guard, Hawke a new resident of Kirkwall, Bethany and Anders one of these _illegal_ mages. What brought these people together? Varric seemed like the only normal being she met.

She'd make sure to ask exactly what Varric meat by _dwarf_ when they first met. It was an unfamiliar race to S'aravi; there is only one word that came to mind when she tried to think about what a dwarf could be.

Dwemer and the dwarven armors; next time she met with Varric, she would make mention of these Dwemer.

And what of these elves? Treated like lower class citizens just because they are shorter then humans with pointed ears? Altmer and Dunmer were highly sought after, the women at least, due to their exotic appearance and nature.

It was really uncomfortable to imagine an elf, a race related to the oldest race known in Tamriel history, to be a lesser race. The Ayleid's were masters of architecture and battle; proven by their perfect craftmanship and the great Ayleid ruins located around Cyrodiil.

What of the Welkynd stones? The Varla stones? The magics they created to defend their holy relics? The ancient Ayleid guardians S'aravi fought when she stole the Elder Scroll for the Grey Fox were massive, powerful, and deadly. Yet after they lay defeated, they crumbled into dust.

The power Ayleid's exercised could not even be compared to what Cyrodiil claims to be great magic. It would be an insult to the ancient Ayleid's to try and do so.

S'aravi had seen so much proof that every race was magnificent in their own ways that after a while, race never concerned her; only aided when in battle with or against one.

This didn't work with the Golden Saints or the Dark Seducers though, they were a breed all their own.

Rolling her eyes, S'aravi remembered that, while she didn't have the strength to battle; they did. To summon one to her aid, all she had to do was call upon them and at any time, they'd arrive at her side to fight with or without reason; they cared not so long as their Lord was protected.

When she was rested, her magicka ready to summon and cast; then she could help Hawke in more ways then he could ever imagine.

With a tired groan, S'aravi attempted to make herself more comfortable while thoughts appeared and attracted her mind's eye, they all seemed useless now; pointless.

She could stop them though; this new city and the natives were interesting and confusing. She would entertain herself with the challenge of learning a whole new world.

Later, after she has had a good night's sleep.

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><p><em><strong>Hey whoa! Beware! <strong>My Wordpress spellcheck is on the fritz! Give me a heads up if there's a few misspelled/typo'd words here or there. I'll fix them! :D_


	6. Tourist in Kirkwall

**_Misdirection_**

_By Kaimaler._

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><p><em><strong>AN:<br>**Hey people, check this out!_

_Coming out soon will be a story based on:_

_An Argonian assassin named Al-Dur who has a little thing for our protagonist, S'aravi. He's currently following her wherever the Tevinter had taken her to and Hawke's rescue._

_There's a LINK on my profile page that'll take you right to the author of the story! I hope you enjoy it as much as I have._

_Also, S'aravi will be starring in an interdimensional hero team story by the same author. It'll involve a lot of cross dimensional traveling. It has characters from Mass Effect, Starcraft, Halo, and Half-Life! The villians are also very diverse, I'm looking forward to it and I hope you all enjoy it too!_

_I hope a lot, huh?_

_Anyways, if you guys want to go to his page, his FanFiction account is:_

_He Who See's_

_Once more, if you just want a link, go to my user page. The link is directly beside my profile avatar! You can't miss it. :)_

_Thanks again to all readers and He Who See's for doing this, it's really exciting for me to have such a great reader. =3_

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><p><em><strong><em>Alright, I want to say something about this chapter<em>**_**. **_It's not a "main chapter."_

_My catagories for chapter styles and importance are:_

_Required and Extremely Important: "Main Chapter's.": Prologue, Plot points, Plot twists, Character development, Epilogue._

_Required to move on with Story: "Directory Chapter's.": Moving the hero/heroine, Leading Chapter's to "Main Chapters", Location Markers._

_Required for Immersion: "Dramatic Chapter's.": Character death, Battle Chapters, Lone Chapters(main character alone), Life Threatening Situations._

_Required to Build Story: "History Chapter's.": Historic Points, Important moments in Protagonist's history, Important moments in any character's history, Experience Chapters._

_Required for Immersion: "Waring Chapter's.": Difference's between characters/protagonist/antagonist, severe arguement(some escalating to physical violence), and General Leadership Disagreements._

_Now, the first two chapters of "Misdirection" were "Main Chapter's", however, this is what I call a "Directory Chapter", a chapter required only to move onto more immersive and meaningful chapters. In other less fancy-like words; A slow, boring, less interesting chapter solely to continue on with the later more interesting topics._

_So, this chapter may be a bit... boring to some readers, but necessary to move on to more important matters. So, while this slow moving chapter hits my readers for the first time, I'd like to apologize for any lateness and I hope you enjoy regardless._

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><p><em><strong><span>HEY! You want news on my stories?<span> Or maybe you just want to chat. Come on, there's a link on my page! Follow me on Twitter under the same name; Kaimaler! :D  
><span>AND I'm on Facebook! Link on my userpage or look for: Caitlyn Miller!<span> I'd love to see you guys there!**_

_**Also, catch me on Skype or Meebo sometime. I'm G . Kaimaler on Skype and I have a load of email addresses for Meebo, just PM me here, on Facebook, Twitter, or Skype to get them. I'm sometimes funny, usually very weird though.**_

_**Review Replies:**_

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><p>In the morning, S'aravi awoke to strong musky smell; something like a smelly rug. Then it got worse, the source must've been in her face because her nose twitched at the overpowering-<p>

_LICK._

With a right jolt, S'aravi let out a sound between a growl and a yelp promptly before falling off the old cot Hawke had given her.

A loud thump accompanied by a mess of tangled limbs hit the wooden floor, alerting those awake just outside. She could hear them be silenced by another before footsteps approached the door to her separate room.

"S'aravi?" Hawke about walked into the room before stopping himself and knocking on the door frame. "What was that? Are you okay?" The door was slightly ajar, arising concern in the dark haired warrior.

"No, not really." She huffed, pushing herself on her elbows. Looking up to the bed, S'aravi saw a very large canine panting happily in ignorant bliss as he watched her rise up.

"I'm coming in; are you dressed?" Hawke placed his hand on the door, waiting for her reply. "I'm decent."

Entering, Hawke was met with a few loud barks, the sound of a poor old cot squeaking in protest against the mabari's weight, and finally the sight of a tired and distraught feline on the ground who seemed rather cross with his warhound. "Oh, boy. Get down." Hawke sighed, "I am so sorry."

"Quite alright," S'aravi blinking, still trying to wake herself up. Hawke leaned down, offering his hand to help her up and with a strong pull, S'aravi was back on her feet. "I wasn't aware you leashed a monster."

Chuckled, Hawke whistled to his hound. "Sometimes I wonder what I have done bringing him in the house. Gamlen doesn't like him much..."

"That is a good thing; keep him." S'aravi smirked, brushing herself off. The mabari finally leaped off the bed with an agreeing bark, standing loyally beside his owner. "Well, I suppose I am awake anyways, might as well begin the day."

"Right!" Hawke gestured her along, "Gamlen's out this morning at the..." He squinted, "... The place with _women_. So he'll be gone for some time; 'til then! Come on, we've had breakfast already, but you're skin an' bones." With a poke to S'aravi's ribs, the feline nearly jumped out of her fur.

Hawke was a _morning_ person.

With Hawke's mabari in tow, the trio exited her new bedroom and were met with the bright faces of Hawke's family. His mother was doing some cleaning while Bethany studied her books.

"Good morning!" Beth smiled, barely even glancing up from her books.

Leandra was much warmer, picking up a plate for S'aravi. "Good morning, we set aside a plate for you if you're hungry." She wasn't used to S'aravi's appearance, that much was certain, but she wasn't as stunned as everyone else upon meeting her.

_Oh no_. They're an entire _family_ of morning people.

With a tired smile in return, S'aravi took the plate from Leandra. "Thank you, Ma'am." With a polite bow, Leandra shook her off. "Inside the house, Leandra is just fine."

"What is it outside?" The Champion asked, taking a long sniff of her hot plate. _Delicious_.

"Lady Hawke or ma'am will do fine; I'm afraid since the news of my parents will I've come to terms that keeping a kind of noble appearance in public will be necessary." Leandra led S'aravi away from Hawke and to the table, offering the feline a seat.

Accepting it, S'aravi sat down and took a hungry bite out of the bread. Her tongue had tasted better bread, as she wasn't poor back in Cyrodiil, but for what it was and for what S'aravi had eaten in the last few days; this was as sweet as wine. "This is wonderful, Leandra. My thanks."

"You're too kind." She gave a thankful smile, "It's not the best bread in Kirkwall, but it suits us fine."

Leandra's quiet demeanor didn't ring unusual in S'aravi's mind; it was polite to keep a guest company while in ones house. Leandra was just being a good hostess.

Tearing the bread apart, S'aravi swallowed the crunchy loaf happily. It wasn't best she ever had, after all, being famous throughout all of Tamriel got you great deals with merchants and people offering for her to stay with them on her travels. The pampered lifestyle wasn't for her, but she'd be lying that after having prison food and living in poverty most of her life that it was not an unwelcome change.

She ate faster then usual and probably much faster then them, a warrior had to eat.

Leandra took the empty plate from her and stacked it with other dishes in the back room before joining S'aravi as she rested her stomach. Perhaps she ate too fast...

"I hate to ask this of a stranger." Leandra sat down beside S'aravi, who blinked calmly at her. "You are offering your home to me, bed and food without asking for payment, as I have none. It would please me to know I am not taking advantage of your hospitality. Ask me what you will and I will deliver."

Nodding, Leandra glanced to her daughter. "My children tell me you are... gifted."

S'aravi noticed the look Leandra gave Bethany, "I suppose you are asking if I specialize in the fields of magicka?" Leandra smiled lightly, "Then yes, I am an Archmage. Your children and their friends have informed me of the restrictions this land forces upon its mages."

"Yes, my daughter is gifted as well and we must hide from the Templars that threaten to take her away." S'aravi saw a twinge of sadness across the woman's face, it was gone just as fast. "Her abilities will not go unnoticed if they insist on traveling in public eye; the Templars will find her and take her away from us."

"I am aware; what do you want of me?" S'aravi had no standings with the Templars or this _Chantry_ they kept mentioning the night before.

"She isn't capable of much right now and, what she can do, is... honestly..." She gave an unsure look, "A little uncontrolled. She tries hard and studies diligently, but there is only so much she can learn without another more experienced mage can teach her."

"You want me to help your daughter learn how to harness her skill properly." She stated, it wasn't a question. Leandra was trying not to make it out so blatantly, by explaining her concern. S'aravi was more then used to people beating around the bush or trying to ask things of her.

With a sigh, the mother gave a quick observation of S'aravi. She wasn't confident in her choice for a tutor, yet it was all she had and all she could give her daughter without alarming the Templars. S'aravi mustn't want to be taken by them either.

"I'm afraid that is what I ask."

S'aravi waved off the older woman's worry. "If she will dedicate an hour a day in privacy with me then I can teach her to control the basics, it would take months to show her the advanced tricks an experienced mage can pull off."

"All I want is that she can use magic when necessary and have complete control; I do not want Templar's finding her." Leandra insisted politely and watched S'aravi look towards Bethany.

"I can do that." Almost like a breath of relief, Leandra stood from the table.

"With that settled, I do believe my son wanted you to join him this afternoon." Hawke took Leandra's standing as their conversation was over and rejoined them at the table where S'aravi felt a little too comfortable at.

"Thank you, now if you don't mind, I have business to attend to."

Hawke saw his mother off before waving his hand, gesturing S'aravi to follow him. Interested, S'aravi rose from the table, her fullness felt like it was weighing her down, making her tired once again.

Smiling to herself, S'aravi passed Bethany, who seemed to be studying a rather large book of ingredients and potions. _That's a start..._ S'aravi thought quietly.

Without paying attention, S'aravi was hit with a large piece of clothing. "Ah-!" Fumbling for the article, S'aravi grasped it tightly, realizing that her claws were probably poking holes through the delicate material because of how hard she gripped it.

"Wear that, ignore the color." Hawke chuckled upon seeing S'aravi surprised at his forwardness.

She let the fabric fall and hang in her hands, seeing it was a cloak like the one she wore yesterday. How nice, but she hadn't noticed another cloak when she arrived last night.

"Where did this come from?" She asked as she slipped the sleeves on and buckled the cloak closed. "This morning I went to the merchant district with Bethany and Aveline."

Stunned, S'aravi stared at Hawke a moment. "When did you have time to do that?"

"Uh, this... morning?" Hawke repeated, "It's mid afternoon, S'aravi."

Choking on air, S'aravi was in disbelief. "Noon? I always awake early..." It was her plan to wake just as the sun rose, if not right before it broke the horizon. It hadn't been so long since her adventuring days; why didn't she awake? And how could she not have woken up when they did? The noise of metal boots thudding on old warped floors was enough to startle an Ogre.

"Really? Like, how early are we talking about?" Hawke held the door open when S'aravi finished covering herself.

"Four to six in the mornings, every day without fail." S'aravi memorized her schedules, each day was different and she never lost a minute of the day. It was better to travel at day break anyways, easier to see or hear woodland creatures that find Khajiit tasty treats.

"Eh, you were probably just too tired. Been a long... however long it's been... I would assume you haven't slept well in a long while, so perhaps a good nights rest was needed." Hawke realized he had no idea when S'aravi was taken and how long she had been a slave to the Tevinter. He weighed that it is actually a good idea to know. "S'aravi, how long has it been since the Tevinter caught you?"

"How long? You mean... how long did it take for them to reach Kirkwall with me in chains?" S'aravi grinned, they had both exited the house now and stood just outside the door.

"Yeah." Hawke had seen many maps, his father used to have an interest in such things, but he never saw a map of Tamriel. He hadn't the faintest as to where it was and what kind of journey it'd take to reach it.

"Honestly, I do not recall." S'aravi guessed it may have been a month to two months at sea before they brought her on land; here in Kirkwall. "I do not even know which way home is from here. It could be east, west, north, or south. I would not know the difference."

With a proud smile, Hawke remembered what his father taught him. "Well, was it cold there?"

"To the northern lands, it was covered in snow and ice. However, just east of the cold land was a very desolate swamp that border the northeast, east, and part of the southeast." S'aravi knew Tamriel by heart, it was her home and she was prepared to be lost in the middle of Black Marsh, or stranded in Morrowind. With her history and her character, it was best to have knowledge of such things.

"Oh, well what was directly south of your home?" He could see the maps in his mind's eye, his father laid them bare and studied each. Far to the north, lands were colder and the furthest southern lands were also cold, everything in between tended to be humid or desert.

"A rain forest the size of Cyrodiil, it is my people's homeland. It is Elsweyr." It may be where her kind hail from originally, but she had not stepped foot once across the Cyrodiil Elsweyr border.

"What's beneath Elswher- I mean, Elswhyer." Hawke made an effort and, for such, S'aravi felt no need to correct him. It was amusing to see him try.

"Heh, ocean?" Elsweyr ended the southern most of Tamriel, beyond it was nothing but an expanse of the southern oceans.

"So it's cold up north and forest down south?" Hawke thought aloud, "Would it be too unbelievable to think Tamriel was somewhere north of here? My father used to tell me that his maps suggested far north and far south were the coldest regions and here, in Kirkwall, we're in between Ferelden, my home which is usually very cold, and we're south of the Tevinter Imperium and Antiva. Both aren't nearly as cold as Ferelden."

"It is possible, I was not awake for most of the time." She gave him a thankful nod, he was trying, though it wasn't solid and both of them were aware of it.

S'aravi glanced around her, Lowtown was always busy. Cargo came through here at times, many warehouses lined the edges of Lowtown, many _private_ warehouses. Many places here S'aravi wouldn't dare enter, it wasn't good for ones' health to go searching for battles after all.

"Hawke, why are we out here?" She questioned, it was a strange thing to be standing outside the door to their home like this and awkward in this silence.

"Oh, yeah." He laughed, "I wanted to ask about Mother and Beth, did she...?"

"Request I train Bethany what I know?" Hawke nodded, "She did and I agreed to do so, it is not too hard so long as she is truly dedicated to learning the Arcane arts."

"She is, trust me. There's no way around it for her, just... Ah. There are a few things here that aren't accepted. Mages are one of those things... and foreigners... and intelligent magic-throwing cats." Hawke made a nervous smile, "And frankly, unless you're in Darktown and you, oh, I don't know, use a little magic behind your attacks... Everything else would make a scene."

Squinting, S'aravi tilted her head slightly. "Hawke, I have never been so confused as I am now. What are you talking about?"

Groaning quietly, Hawke ran an unsure hand through his hair, ending up getting tangled and pulling out a few painful knots before returning to S'aravi.

"What I'm trying to say, S'aravi, is that people don't go on about Anders' being a mage because he helps people, it's like a little thing every poor person in Kirkwall knows. Anders is a mage and he runs a free clinic for people who can't afford renowned doctors or healing magic."

"Now I understand," S'aravi was getting concerned Hawke had spent too much time in the sun. "You want me to avoid using magicka in public so as to not bring attention to you or your family; for Bethany's sake and my own."

He slumped over, "Exactly. Could you, please? I mean, healing wounds and whatnot is fine, just don't start raining fire from above or shooting people with electric currents."

"I was a warrior before I was trained in magicka, Hawke, I am considerably better with a sword or shield then I am with a staff." S'aravi smirked, Hawke was a very strange man, more so then any other man she'd ever met. "Do not fret, I will restrain myself. If I may ask, Hawke, do you intend on taking me with you on your adventures?"

With a confident nod, Hawke shrugged. "You said you could, after you healed up anyways. If you don't want to, at least, now or... something, I won't _make_ you come with me."

He was certainly a very hyperactive fellow, S'aravi noted his behavior when she was around him. "I can fight, but I am not at my best just yet. I do feel a little... off, so to speak."

"If you can still fight... That'd be great, with a sharp pointy object though, no staff's please." Hawke smirked, "I have a mage who's obsessed with freeing the mages in the Circle, my sister, a guardswoman that hates anything not done through the legal system, and a crossbow that just so happens to be attached to a dwarf. None of these are a good combination for getting things done effectively."

"Give me a sword then." S'aravi attempted to shrug, only ending with knocking the large metal shackle around her neck hindering the gesture. "Perhaps we can also see about getting this thing off as well."

"I promise we will..." With a thoughtful look, they stood in silence until Hawke snapped his fingers. "I have an idea-" S'aravi stared flatly, "I know, surprising, right? Anyways, what if we got something, like a cuirass, do you think that would help support the weight of the shackle?"

S'aravi put her hands underneath the shackle and lifted it. Regardless of its size, the weight was nothing to an experienced warrior, it would throw her footing off in battle though, then the shackle constantly rubbing through her fur would eventually bruise her neck and collarbone before it could start cutting through skin.

Thinking about it now, not padding her shoulders and neck seemed to be a worse idea then simply wearing a cuirass everywhere.

"That..." S'aravi set the shackle back down, it was already bruising the skin beneath her fur. "... I would be thankful."

Patting her shoulder, Hawke pulled out a pouch which he tossed to her. Catching it, S'aravi felt the coins inside, he was offering her gold to buy a cuirass. "Correction, I _am _thankful Hawke."

As she tied the pouch onto her belt, Hawke had already began the walk to the market district. Walking behind him, S'aravi was getting a better look of Lowtown, previously it was dark and people were locked away in their homes, now they were out and about, working for the warehouses and selling items for low prices; to accompany the poorer folks who resided here.

The dusty ground, what appeared to be collapsing buildings, and the condemned ones' that tended to blend into the dirt and grime of Lowtown. It was very characteristic of Kirkwall, yet S'aravi felt there was much more then a few old rotting wooden cargo boxes, thugs wandering the streets, and Hawke's crew. There simply had to be more to it then _this_.

Turns and turns through the multitude of streets wound up with S'aravi and Hawke standing present at the Hanged Man, where S'aravi wasn't sure why Hawke was entering.

"I thought we were going to the market for a cuirass." S'aravi glanced to the door then back to Hawke who had paused midway, "We are, I just wanted to stop in and see a friend."

Reluctantly she followed him inside, as most poverty stricken towns, there was a large number of frequent patrons. It was risky for her to be here, majority of common folk expected people to disrobe when entering a building; it was the well mannered thing to do.

Hawke seemed to stand at attention though; there was an event taking place inside these aged walls.

"You owe us, Isabela."

There was a number of men all surrounding a section of the bar; S'aravi assumed they were trying to corner someone by the name _Isabela_.

"Well lucky, I'll tell you what." Hawke and S'aravi got a closer look, it was a woman who wasn't too distressed by being outnumbered in the corner of a broken down bar, "Since the information you gave me is worth nothing..." She poured a drink, taking a swift gulp of the contents before putting it back on the bar table and poured herself another, "That's what I'll pay you."

S'aravi took a step back, well armed thugs like these preferred to fight for their rewards; well deserved or not.

The man rose from the bar table and just as the woman was going for another drink, he slammed it back down to the table and glared to the woman's face. Still, the woman was stoic, these men didn't frighten her in the slightest and S'aravi could guess this meant she could take them on. Easily.

"Me and my boys will get our money's worth, bitch."

_Bad move_. Hawke even got the drift and stepped back with her, watching as the woman put on her act. "Oh you poor, sweet thing."

It started faster than it had taken her to down a glass of her chosen spirit. With a flick of her wrist she dragged the man down and braced a hand on his head, banging it into the bar table twice before a man grabbed her from behind; she was stuck for a moment until she headbutted the man, forcing him to drop her.

"Are we going to aid this woman?" S'aravi asked without turning away from the battle. Hawke merely smiled in return, "I think she's got this covered."

Another one of this thug group had gone for a weapon and came up with a wine bottle. Just as her feet hit the ground, she saw this man and ducked for cover, resulting in the bottle breaking over the head of his ally instead.

Standing back up she took her chance and landed a punch after punch on the man. She grabbed his shoulders and drove him into her knee before finishing him off with a solid punch. He was down and another man rejoined the fight.

She caught him just in time, he unscathed his sword and prepared to swing, yet her blade was faster. The dagger's tip met the thin skin on his neck and was ready to cut through the delicate flesh. Her other hand was hovering over another large dagger on her back, she was faster then he was.

The other thugs were on the ground, crawling in pain. She stood in victory with the last man under her thumb. "Tell me lucky, is this worth dying for?"

As she moved he followed suit, her dagger barely tapping his neck as he sheathed his sword and turned away nervously; his allies were close behind, struggling to stand and escape this dangerous woman.

Like it never happened, she leaned casually on the bar table and finished her drink in a single swig. She chuckled at her beaten opponents, "I didn't think so."

Hawke finally blinked, he was certainly glad to see someone who fought for themselves and with so much success.

He strode confidently to her, ignoring the injured men who passed him on the way out. S'aravi stood a slight distance behind him, only witnessing the conversation.

"My, and here I thought the only men here were besotted fools who couldn't hoist the mainsail." She shook her head and shrugged, turning to Hawke as she spoke.

"When you talk about hoisting the mainsail, what do you really mean?" Hawke looked pointedly to the woman. She was familiar with ships, much so, yet S'aravi admitted her own ignorance of the topic.

She acted innocent enough, "What else could it mean? It requires strength, knowledge of rigging, and a small measure of sobriety."

"I know my way around rigging." Hawke pointed to himself. "And I'm good with my hands." He smiled proudly, as if he just caught a subtle joke that no one else did.

S'aravi felt like finding some way to deafen herself, this was a horrible way to start a conversation. She settled for rolling her eyes and Isabela scratched her head.

"Oh my..." She spoke like she was groaning it out, S'aravi knew a beautiful woman when she saw one, no matter the specie, and this woman was gorgeous. Probably very bored of the usual _suggestions. _As any polite fellow would do, she chose to ignore the comment.

Bowing sarcastically she introduced herself. "I'm Isabela, previously "Captain" Isabela. Sadly, without my ship, the title rings a bit hollow."

With narrowed eyes, she leaned slightly forward. "You're Ferelden, aren't you? You have that look about you." Hawke shifted his weight thinking how transparent he must look. "I was in Denerim not too long ago."

S'aravi was beginning to wonder the same thing; could Hawke be read so easily?

"You know, you might just be what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have." If the sword and heavy pouch of coins any pirate would notice didn't suggest he was somewhat successful in his adventures. Isabela had a certain look about her now; like a cat who just found its dinner.

"Can't anyone fix their own lives around here?" Hawke almost sounded exasperated to S'aravi, but Isabela played it off with a comical shrug, "Must be something in the water."

"Someone from my past has been pestering me. I've arranged for a duel-" She had this sure smirk on and it only made S'aravi more nervous about her. "If I win, he leaves me alone."

Hawke nodded silently, he could tell something else was up just as easily as S'aravi could; neither made mention. "But I don't trust him to play fair. I need someone to watch my back."

Interested, Hawke could sense half-truths almost as fast as he could easy gold. "Who's this person you've arranged to meet?"

"His name is Hayder. We worked together back in Antiva. He's never liked me." She glanced to the side, remembering her time working with him. "He's been asking about me all over Kirkwall. Thought I'd get it over with and meet him face to face."

Suspicious, Hawke decided against leaving her to the wolves. "I think I could manage watching your back."

S'aravi knew a lot of things, nothing about sailing or _rigging_, but she knew when someone was trying to get what they wanted by playing nice. Isabela wasn't an exception. Just as she did with the beaten thug, she chuckled and sent him a seducing gaze. "I'll bet."

She came right passed Hawke and S'aravi, telling him the final information. "I've arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown after dark. I'll meet you there."

Hawke smiled as she passed. Hightown at night, sounded fun to Hawke and S'aravi could see just how _interested _he was as his eyes followed Isabela until he could no longer see her.

"Hawke." S'aravi sighed, "Do we have business to conduct here or not?"

It was a dumb, love-struck look, but it suited Hawke's youth and zealousness. "Did you just see me conducting business?" S'aravi shook her head, "That was business, I swear it!" He didn't seem all too convinced by his own lie.

"You neglected to ask her how much you will be paid or even try to question her. She simply strutted passed you like a- a dog in heat and you fell for it." S'aravi tugged at her cloak's sleeves. It was habit to grab something when she was even the slightest bit frustrated. "She could be planning to rob us for all you know. I bet you would let her to so long as she _leaned_ down a bit more."

Gasping and clutching his chest like he was stabbed, Hawke turned from the direction Isabela left. "You wound me, _Kitty_."

"Do not call me that." S'aravi growled in response. She was getting her fight back now that she was awake and ready. "I am Khajiit, not _Kitty_."

Nodding, Hawke walked ahead of her. "Yeah, uh-huh, sure..." S'aravi glared at the back of his head, it was playful banter, nothing threatening. She wouldn't ever admit her amusement though.

"... Kitty." Hawke ran for it, he dodged clean out of S'aravi's sight just as she attempted to grab at him. "Get back here troll!"

Laughing as she followed Hawke up the stairs to the back rooms of the Hanged Man, she and Hawke both burst into the first room. Hawke stopped on a dime while the shackle around S'aravi's neck threw her off balance and she bumped into Hawke with an Oof_!_

Hawke smiled widely, his white teeth glaring as he approached the very intrigued Varric.

At the head of a great table, Varric greeting Hawke anxiously. "So, I've been dying to know. What was going through your head when you fought that ogre?"

S'aravi paused, _Ogre_?

There was an instant change in Hawke, one S'aravi almost missed completely. "I knew that whatever happened, I had to get the others to safety."

It was a determination, not from current struggling, but old wounds. Hawke hadn't said a serious thing since she met him, then again, she only met him yesterday. She'd reserve judgment until later; when the time came to ask about this 'ogre' and why it elicited such a strong emotion from the normal joking demeanor Hawke paraded around with.

Even Varric was a little surprised by this change; though it was common enough for him to expect it. S'aravi closed her eyes in deep thought, there was still so much about Kirkwall and her new allies she didn't know.

"A lot of people talk about nobility and selflessness... generally in the same stories that have magic beans." Varric snickered, "Somehow Hawke, I imagine things won't be dull with you around. Not that I expect the Deep Roads to be boring, mind you. The constant threat of doom does tend to keep you awake."

Hawke grinned at this, before the topic was dropped. "If we'll be working together, I should find out more about you."

So neither had known each other for long, yet Hawke is so comfortable around the dwarf. S'aravi was learning a great many new things just by standing here.

"True enough. I suppose you ought to know my credentials." Varric acted like a businessman at times. "My family came from Orzammar - noble House Tethras - until my father got caught fixing Provings. He and our whole house got exiled. No huge loss. I was born up here, sunshine suits me just fine."

This seemed to get curiosity out of Hawke. "Are you a merchant? A mercenary?"

"I am a younger son. It's a difficult and dangerous profession. A lot of us die of boredom." He huffed, "Fortunately, being Bartrand's younger brother keeps me on my toes. Maker knows he lacks subtlety." It was a joke to kill the awkwardness of meeting new folks.

"I'm the one who pulls strings to keep the Coterie out of our hair - keep us just a whisker ahead of the other families." Varric twitched, his crossbow laid lovingly at his side. It was insurance in more then one way.

"A lot of things can keep you awake, you know. I wouldn't reach for the doom first." His momentary serious attitude fled faster then a cliff racer.

"Sure, I could have a cup of tea in the morning, but I hear it's bad for you." Varric glanced around the room, it was familiar surroundings. "I've spent my whole life in Kirkwall. Dangerous enough, most days, but it doesn't compare to the Deep Roads."

Unsure, Varric thought up a term for them. "This will be... let's just call it 'an adventure,' I guess."

"Great, now we're adventurers." Hawke replied with a sarcastic tone. He may not like that very much from what S'aravi could see.

Varric chuckled, taking a swig of his half empty drink. Hawke waited until the cup hit the table to begin again. "Alright Varric, I'm heading out and thought I could use a bow, want to come?"

"Depends Hawke, what's on the list today?" Varric patted his crossbow, like he was petting a cat.

"I still have to get the sovereigns for the Expedition and I will be joining a woman named Isabela in Hightown at night." Hawke pulled the paper from his pouch, "Immediately after that I will be dealing with this letter I received a little while ago is offering a decent reward. I figured it was about time to take care of this anyways."

"That pirate downstairs? Never thought she'd ask..." Varric took the letter. "It's a little suspicious Hawke, the letter doesn't say much. Something tells me there's more going on then just a contract."

"You're probably right, but I need those sovereigns Varric."

Varric tossed the letter back on the table, "Alright, alright." Varric stood from his seat, carefully lifting his crossbow and hitching onto his back, "You do know that all this takes place at night and it's not night, Hawke."

"I know that." Hawke grumbled, "Me and S'aravi are going to the shops to buy her a cuirass."

Snapping his fingers, Varric looked to the robed woman behind Hawke. "Yeah, I remember now." S'aravi walked with them, leaving the Varric's room and into the hallway. "I hope you got a good rest, running errands with Hawke'll kill you."

"Hey!" Hawke acted offended.

"I slept fine, in fact, I overslept this morning." S'aravi nodded her thanks, at least, she thought Varric was trying to ask her if she had a good rest. "I wish to thank you for your aid yesterday, you and Hawke both served a purpose to free me from those slavers."

Varric waved her off, "It's nothing, just remember the next time you recognize Tevinter slavers, they'll recognize you too."

"I will... keep that in mind." A little put off, S'aravi distanced herself while thinking over this.

Leaving the tavern was a relief to her and she couldn't wait to get the weight of this shackle off her abused muscles. It was hard trying to balance her weight with it pulling her around.

With the Hanged Man behind them, Hawke, Varric and S'aravi left to the markets. She needed both sword and cuirass, which would greatly improve her fighting and effectiveness in combat.

As she was now all she could do is inflict some nasty scratch wounds and perhaps lock her jaw into the arm of her attackers. Aside from that, S'aravi never really specialized in hand to hand combat. It wasn't her strong suit and fighting like that against an army of well armed and protected knights and creatures from all around Cyrodiil was suicide.

Best keep the sword close.

The walked passed a number of desperate merchants, each one selling a cheap (sometimes replicas) of their more professionally made items. Jewelry, armor, weapons, staffs, potions, and herbs.

S'aravi barely even looked at the items, until they passed the merchant selling used staffs. A few caught her eye, but these staffs seemed more extravagant then the staffs back in Tamriel. They were adorned with carvings, snakes, dragons, birds, some held orbs and jewels. She bet that, even with all this extra luxury added to their appearance it was all it was, dress and not function.

Smiling, she would rather have a twisted old branch with the power to freeze anyone unfortunate enough to be in its range. Hannibal's icestaff was a priceless tool, both in utility and meaning.

Looking back to Hawke, she noticed she had slowed down a bit to examine the staffs. Jogging to catch up, neither Hawke nor Varric had seen her fall behind. A good thing too, she didn't want to be caught sending _looks_ to those useless excuses for a mage's greatest asset.

When S'aravi looked up, she saw the staircase leading out of Lowtown; the same way they had entered last night.

* * *

><p>It wasn't a long walk to Hightown, but it was a tense one. S'aravi found out that not watching your back was a bad thing in the poorer parts of Kirkwall.<p>

She had spotted a few suspicious characters as they ascended into Hightown, no one made a move though, so perhaps they weren't interested in her or the gold filled pouch Hawke had given her.

Varric was more then aware of them, he just didn't appear to care about them. He was on high alert, but he was sure no one would attempt to attack.

Hawke was the same way, seemingly oblivious to the shady people that surrounded them. S'aravi never liked having to deal with thieves and cutthroats, they were always just some beggar that was desperate enough to steal or kill for food.

On rarer occasions, it was actually wealthy criminals who dealt with the underground markets. Slavery, illegal _tools_ and imported herbal treatments. All strictly prohibited and all with the richest market.

With a sigh, they entered Hightown, the district with all the gold.

It was more beautiful at day, the off white stone, the lush plants, a great building looming over the others. Somehow, it reminded S'aravi a little of the Imperial City. Rich, well furnished, and pampered, the folks here were distressed over the presence of lower class citizens.

S'aravi felt like scoffing at them, in Cyrodiil people would be begging for her to join them. Everyone wanted a piece of the Champion; the wealthy wanted her because she was a trophy to them.

Yet those other people, normal fellows who simply went about their day. Rich, poor, or middle class, it didn't matter; the majority of Cyrodiil residents understand the struggles she endured to save Martin and stop Mehrunes Dagon from destroying all of Tamriel.

She was loved by all, feared by her enemies, and well respected for her courage and determination. She saw what the people of Cyrodiil saw in her, like the statue carved in her honor for her valor at the Battle for Bravil. Closing the Great Gate and bringing back a Great Sigil Stone was unbelievable; a story worthy of being told in history.

They saw that she represented them, as a whole, their strife and loss during the attacks from Oblivion were widespread. No one was safe, not even within great stone walls.

She lost just as much as they did, maybe even more; now Hawke was displaying her own personality, albeit with a snarky sense of humor, but he wasn't a coward and he proved he wouldn't run from a fight when he was outnumbered yesterday.

Just as they arrived in Hightown, Hawke found a merchant stand, one carrying an array of armor.

"Alright, what do you think you can deal with? Heavy like, big a bulky armor or something lighter?" Hawke scanned through a few chainlink armors.

S'aravi stepped up to the merchant stand, setting the owner on alert. Thieves often wore clothing that could hide their thievery, just like a large flowing cloak S'aravi wore now.

"I can work with the most affordable armor here," S'aravi pointed at a set of armor, "There, that should do just fine."

"You can get something... better, S'aravi." Hawke examined the armor. It was new, never touched, but it looked rather weak. It certainly wasn't the best craftsmanship.

"I do not need better, Hawke." That sounded arrogant to S'aravi's ears, but Hawke only smirked. "Red breastplate it is."

"That's ten sovereigns and eight-nine silver." The merchant took the armor from it's shelf, laying on the table in front of them.

S'aravi took out the pouch Hawke had given to her and counted out the gold, she hadn't seen silver or copper used in trade very often, but she was in a different land; one that had far stranger rules then her own. As she handed the merchant his pay, she took the armor in hand.

"Come on, let's head to the Amell mansion, it's empty since Bethany and I cleared it." Hawke pulled S'aravi along, avoiding contact with any of the Hightown residents; like touching them would make him fatally ill.

As they passed some unusual buildings, they entered a large open plaza. Aside from the garden decorations and a few people attempting to sell things here, it was mostly quiet, people remained off to the side in shade or nearby the plants. Seemed the people Hawke avoided did the same thing to him.

Hawke stopped at a door a pushed it open, entering the mansion like it was his own.

It was eerily quiet. The place was covered in cobwebs and smelled like smoke and filth. The neglect this house suffered was grand and through all the grime on the walls, S'aravi was sure this place could be cleaned and polished well enough to befit a Count.

"This is the Amell mansion; my mother's parents home." Hawke explained, Varric just took a seat on a nearby old stool and waited. She needed to put the armor on. "We're working on reclaiming it, last night S'aravi, when you saw my mother and my uncle arguing, it was over this mansion. When we get it back, it'll be worth its size."

"I will return shortly." S'aravi excused herself, Hawke knew well enough that the leather armor Aveline gave her wouldn't fit under the armor. She had to unbuckle all of it before strapping the armor on.

Taking on this task would be tedious, but not impossible to do alone.

"How did the family take it?" Varric asked, interrupting Hawke's investigation of the old building.

Turning around to the dwarf, Hawke stared at him. "Take... what?"

"I mean how did they take... her." Varric pointed to the room S'aravi left to.

"Oh, S'aravi?..." Hawke bared his teeth, "Not well. Mother gave me a good lecture after they met and I told mother I wanted her to stay with us." Scratching his hair, Hawke sat next to Varric. "Honestly, it could've gone better."

"Hmpf, I wouldn't be comfortable with a stranger in my home sleeping in one of my beds either."

Hawke sent a glare to Varric, "That's because you deal with the Merchants Guild, Varric."

Shaking his head, "No matter, that cat is still a stranger to Leandra; I'm surprised she didn't say no." Varric pointed again to the room S'aravi was in. "And she's a... cat person. Doesn't that set off a red flag?"

"Varric she's-" Hawke held his hands out, scrambling for words. "She's... I mean, what should I be worried about? I don't hate elves because they're elves, nor dwarves for being dwarves. I have nothing against S'aravi for being... what she is."

"I'm not talking race here, Hawke, I'm talking about familiarity." Varric stood up leaving Hawke on the old bench. "Not only is she a stranger, but she just so happens to be a specie we've never heard of from a land no one knows. You can't tell me that's just coincidence."

"Where else would we discover a new race from? Ferelden?" Hawke laughed, "I find her _exotic _and she's not uptight. All Anders goes on about is oppression, Aveline acts too tough to even be considered a man, Bethany is my _sister _so she doesn't count, and you? You love telling stories. I want to see if she can offer us something we don't have."

"Hey, people like stories, the more extravagant the better!" He brought his hand across the air, like running a hand over the shape of a distant rainbow. "What do you want her to offer us? Gold? Fame? Or just see how well she can kill stuff?"

Hawke rubbed his hands together, "Security. If she's as good as she says she is, who knows what she can offer to the group... and I couldn't just leave her on the streets. If someone saw a giant talking cat walking around, the Templars would be involved and the guards would freak out. Who knows what'll happen!"

"Is this just for your own conscience then, Hawke?"

"Ah~ I don't know, maybe it is." Hawke mindlessly fiddled with the edge of his belt. "She seems nice enough, she's not serious all the time and she hasn't depressed me yet. That's already better then Anders!"

The two laughed, Anders had a tendency to ruin a mood with his constant talk of the mages and Templars, how the Chantry is corrupt and needed to end. Perhaps it was truth, but no one wanted to hear about it everyday of their life; that was plain depressing.

"Hawke, Varric?" S'aravi came around the corner in the breastplate armor. "I am ready."

Nodding, Hawke waited until S'aravi clasped her cloak back on. "Then let's go, I already have a sword you can use."

Finishing the clasps, S'aravi glanced up. "Really?... Then, my thanks again Hawke." She threw the hood over her head, making sure it covered everything. "Stop thanking me, you're doing it too much." Hawke sneered.

"I have a lot to be thankful of, my life included." Hawke held the door open for S'aravi and she and Varric passed through first before being followed by Hawke. "Thank you again, a very polite thing for a young man to do."

Rolling his eyes, "Just stop thanking me, I'm sure if I was in your homeland captured by slavers you'd do the same for me."

"Probably not; it would be more dangerous for you to travel with me in Cyrodiil then finding yourself a way home." S'aravi noted, stunning Hawke for a moment.

"More dangerous? How come?"

"I am Champion of Cyrodiil, Archmage of the Mages Guild, and I have plenty more titles." She answered, holding up a pointed hand. "In Cyrodiil, my enemies can't fight me so they attack those closest to me. It has never worked, but it is harder for me to watch over those I hold close while traveling around Cyrodiil fighting minotaurs." She chuckled, minotaurs were one of the worst creatures she ever had the displeasure to fight, yet it was very rewarding to see them fall.

"How many of these titles do you actually have?" The same question Hawke was going to ask, before Varric stole his words.

"Those two, Master of the Fighter's Guild, Sister of the Blades, Grey Fox of the Thieves Guild, Grand Champion of the Imperial Arena, Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood, Knight of the White Stallion, Knight Commander of the Knights of the Nine, arguably the Crusader reincarnated, and even Sheogorath." She smiled, it was all the ranks she remembered by heart; maybe not even all of them. Temporary joinings she did to find people, to complete missions someone sent her on, those didn't matter so much to her.

Hawke stared at her. "What is _Shoegorth_?" He glared into the air, "Now I know I said that wrong, please don't correct me."

Laughing, S'aravi owed him more then just her life. Slavery was a fate worse then death, especially to someone who was so free spirited like her. Hawke deserved to know and she had nothing to hide. At least, in Cyrodiil, most people already knew she was a heroine to them, but also one of the single most deadly people in all Cyrodiil.

"Sheogorath was the Daedric Lord of Madness. He was insane and his realm challenged his insanity." S'aravi explained, she wasn't going to go into deep detail. "When a door opened to his realm, I entered. He expected me and, after defeating his Gatekeeper, I traveled to his city. Sheogorath called upon me to help him defend his realm from the Daedric Lord of Order; the opposite of him."

"Wait... So you went to another _realm_?" Hawke shook his head in disbelief. "Okay, I'll go alone with this only because your a cat person."

"Khajiit." S'aravi tried again to get him to say it. It didn't work.

"Yeah, so... Keep going. I have to hear this." Varric was following silently behind. He didn't believe it, but it would make a great story some day.

"I agreed and did all I could to aid him. I assassinated the Duchess of Dementia and became the new Duchess, according to Sheogorath's laws." She still never fully understood the rules Sheogorath made for the Shivering Isles; she also thought that never understanding it was the point. "It was only a short time after that did Sheogorath inform me of who the Daedric Lord of Order was."

Hawke was a little off put by that. How could someone fight for a cause without knowing their enemy? "Who?"

"Jyggalag." S'aravi faced Hawke. "Who is Sheogorath's true personality. He was cursed by the other Daedric Lords as they feared Jyggalag's great army of Knights and his many vast realms. So he became Sheogorath, the one thing Jyggalag hated is madness. It was befitting to the other Lords that Sheogorath become the Prince of Madness."

"That's... inane." Hawke had a strange expression on, slight disbelief mixed with concern over his feline ally.

"It is, but Sheogorath is Madness incarnate." She shook her head, "Until, of course, he made me Sheogorath, which is now more of a front then realistic. I am neither insane or an actual Daedra of any form. I am the first mortal I know of to have the mantle of a Daedric Prince passed onto her."

"I don't mean to sound offending, S'aravi, but I... I think if I believed all that, I would have to be pure crazy." Hawke pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's hard to believe, you can understand that, right?"

"Of course I can. I could hardly believe it myself." She spoke truthfully, "In this land with so many changes to the world you understand around you. I can see how someone who hails from here would be full of questions and cautious to put faith in my words. One day, perhaps I can take you to the realm he gave me."

"Maybe one day."

S'aravi felt the conversation would only get more complicated and allowed it to be dropped; she had no desire to continue on speaking of something she already had to go through.

Now, following Hawke with Varric, she wondered exactly where they were going now.

"Hawke, if I may be so bold, where are we going?" S'aravi asked, they passed the plaza and were now about to head up another staircase leading to a massive building. "We're going to see if Aveline's available, then we'll be fetching Anders from Darktown." S'aravi nodded.

They climbed the staircase to two grand doors, both adorned with incomprehensible markings to S'aravi. This city was still so strange to her; it's symbols and titles held little meaning to her. She warned herself she needed to realize that while to her such things hold no power over her, to these people it meant the world.

As the doors opened and they entered, S'aravi was met with the smell of perfumes and the crisp cleanliness. As she looked around, it was all people wearing expensive garments. Clearly, this is where the rich came to gloat about their wealth. Every city had a place like this.

Again they went up a staircase, this one was covered with an immaculate rug, the walls around it covered in tapestries and paintings. The guards looked like they had never seen a fight, their armor was perfect, not a dent or scratch, and their weapons appeared more ceremonial instead of for battling intruders or assassins.

Rich people came here, no doubt there had to be at minimum one assassin in the building. Smiling to herself, S'aravi noted that she was most likely that assassin, even if she wasn't here to fulfill a contract.

They reached a short corridor that ended in a smaller room then the open lobby of this giant building. As they entered, Varric winked to Hawke. "Give me a minute with the Captain, would you?"

"What? Varric, why would I do that?" Hawke paused, "I just need to ask her a few things, then she's all yours. Promise." He gave a sly grin in reply as Hawke waved him off.

"Five minutes then I'm coming it, regardless of what you're doing in there." He warned the dwarf just as he entered a room off to the side.

S'aravi and Hawke waited just outside the door and she could tell Hawke was counting the seconds. "Do you know what he wished of the Captain?" She asked, leaning on the wall beside Hawke.

"No, but I know Varric and already it's a step in the wrong direction." He huffed, "I shouldn't have let him go in there alone; he's enough trouble on the road alone." He jested, but he seemed a little perturbed that his recruitment had to stop so suddenly.

"Five minutes? I'll count for you." S'aravi said, putting a hand over his own. He had been counting the seconds on his fingers as fast as he could. "Then we'll politely interrupt."

The minutes flew to S'aravi and Hawke only got more annoyed. She found his irritation amusing and did her best to calm him during this short time.

"So how well do you know the Captain?" S'aravi asked, earning a snicker from Hawke. "The Guard Captain is, or will soon be, Aveline; she got the promotion when we discovered the last Captain was making deals with thugs. He got arrested and the Viscount appointed her Captain."

"What about training? Preparations?" The Imperial guards in Cyrodiil went through grueling challenges, hardships known only by them. It was agonizing to try and complete training, most failed or just quit, others became guards and, on occasion, went through more training to become Captain, Lieutenant, even the lesser ranks were difficult to achieve.

"She is going through it now. Aveline is the only guard who did her work right, she studied, kept an eye for suspicious characters and, for it, she was made Captain." Hawke glanced around the room quickly. "And between you and me, having a friend as the Guard Captain doesn't have any drawbacks."

"We can go in now." S'aravi pushed herself from the wall, keeping Hawke's words in mind.

"Thank the Maker!" Hawke immediately shoved the door open.

"Varric, no." Hawke heard Aveline. "You're the captain, or you will be. It'll be easy." He tried to reason, using weak words but speaking with passion. It was usually the best way to go; sound confidant and people will think you know what you're doing.

"I'm not petitioning the viscount to help you steal ownership of the Hanged Man." She sounded the more confident one. "Steal?-" Varric gasped as if he'd been stabbed with a dagger. "-Madam, you wound me."

She stood up, seeing that Hawke had entered. "I'm about to." She raised her arm and pointed out the door, signaling this conversation was over.

He shook his head and, passing Hawke, he gave a short wave and exited the Captains office.

As Hawke and S'aravi stood in front of Aveline, she sat on the edge of the desk, looking a bit unsure of herself. "Big changed are coming, huh? Captain of the Guard." She looked straight ahead of herself, away from Hawke, and seemed distant. To S'aravi, Aveline might as well have just left the room. "Thank you, Wesley."

"Not sure I like being behind the dead in order of influence." Hawke answered Aveline's quiet memory in humor. "Of course I have you to thank. It's just... I've made a mess of things, time to time. But that failure..." S'aravi could read people fairly well and this Guard Captain seemed particularly bothered by this _Wesley_.

"He's not with me, I know that. Wesley's at the Maker's side, or he's not. Either way, he knows no pain." Her eyes narrowed, not in anger, but as someone would do when struck. "What I keep is that moment. I won't let anyone down like that again."

A deep wound it must be, family, friend, something. S'aravi would discuss his companions further when they had the time. "Wesley's at the Maker's side, or he's not. What do you mean by that?"

Hawke wasn't very religious, it all seemed like a story told through time to every group, elves, dwarves, humans, qunari, and someone told it wrong a few times. Whatever it originally was, he didn't suspect to know any time soon, nor cared to.

"Wesley believed and if he's correct, then that's where he is." She radiated security, she knew what she believed and what she wanted. "But... this business of 'the less the Maker does, the more He's proven'? I don't find it compelling."

Hawke's head tilted, "But you married a templar."

"I married a man. A good one. And he's gone." She corrected Hawke quickly. S'aravi had seen many women crumble over the death of their husbands and husbands who do the same at the day their wife dies. When the Oblivion gates were shut finally, she was tasked a few times with delivering news to families. It was the hardest thing she's ever done, she knew the feeling. "I have heard the Chant. It is lovely. Perhaps that's all it needs to be."

Hawke sensed something, "You clearly miss Wesley, but that's not the issue."

"Of course I miss him, but he's not coming back. Pining like a child serves no one." She definitely deserved Guard Captain, she acted like a strong, grown woman should. "So I remember him, but I let him rest."

"You're not so kind to yourself though."

It was still a moment, then Aveline turned her head slightly. "No."

"I don't see how you can take the blame for the darkspawn horde." Aveline rocked on the table a little. "I didn't cause his death, but I also didn't prevent it."

"Do you blame me?" Hawke thought that was a fair enough question, he hoped for a better answer though.

"I did. I didn't want to. I know why it had to be done, and so did Wesley." She made a grimace. "But in my heart, that cut was cruel."

S'aravi almost felt she should leave, it was a kinder thing to do. Yet it may also be an insult to this woman's strength and S'aravi hadn't not thanked her for freeing her the day before. Aveline was strong enough and it compelled S'aravi to stay just to ensure this woman know she's moved past her husbands death and such privacy is not needed anymore.

Hawke gave Aveline a proud smile, he didn't want to continue such talk of dark history. It hurt Aveline, but he was around to be a friend when she needed one. She, nor his other allies, were alone with Hawke as a companion. "I could get used to having the law on my side."

Aveline sensed the change and, to Hawke's comment, she put on the expression a mother would when reprimanding her children. "You'll behave yourself, is what you'll do. I just sent Jeven to prison for corruption, I won't go the same road."

Hawke made a frown, "You never let me have any fun."

Finally breaking her stoic attitude, Aveline smiled at Hawke's jest. "I think that's best for everyone."

"I look forward to working with you, Guard Captain Aveline." The title came out strangled, as if Hawke struggled to say it. "Still strange, isn't it?"

"Captain of the Guard." She tried the words and the same thing, the words were almost alien to her. "Thank you for helping me get here, Hawke. This is where I should be."

Hawke smirked, "So Guard Captain, are you ready for some public services?"

"What do you have in mind, Hawke?" Aveline rose from her desk. "In about two hours there's a duel arranged just outside the Chantry in Hightown. This pirate woman, Isabela, invited me and whoever else I could convince to join us. She doesn't trust her duel partner to play fair, which is why we're going tonight as back up."

"Pirate? Hawke, are you actually going to help a _pirate_." Aveline sighed, "She doesn't trust her opponent to play fair, pirates are notorious for never playing by the rules."

"And? There's a reward and I need the gold still, Aveline." Hawke answered nonchalantly. "Then, after that, I received a letter from an interested party. Want's me to them him at night in Lowtown, by the merchant stands. I'll do that after I deal with Isabela's duel."

"Hawke..." Aveline had a weary voice.

"I know, it's dangerous. So come along, you can watch my back and take me to mother when we're done." He wanted her along, Aveline was a very skilled warrior and he needed another person who could get up close and personal with their enemies. Mages and archers can only do so much.

"You know I will either way." Aveline grabbed her shield from her desk and hooked it onto her back. "When do we leave?"

"When you're ready. We just have to get Anders and we can take on whatever those duelist have waiting for us." Hawke had a ear to ear grin plastered on his face that rarely ever disappeared.

She had her sword and shield attached, she nodded and Hawke led them out of the Captain's office. They left the barracks and the Viscount's Keep, Hawke was leading them to Darktown.

This city was magnificent, but its beauty hid the true skin of this broken city. It was nothing like the Imperial City or any of the cities in Cyrodiil; it made S'aravi feel somewhat small in comparison, but the Imperial leaders do their best at honesty. All mistakes are laid bare before the people, in time though, they are usually forgotten.

As the walk passed through Hightown and reentered the slums, S'aravi noted such a strange difference in Hightown and Lowtown, the rich were always the face of a city, the slums were the body, and the people its conscience.

She figured she'd be fighting soon, she needed that sword. "Hawke, you said you had a weapon for me?"

Hawke paused, "Oh yeah, forgot about that." His jaw jutted forward as he pulled a sword from his side. "Here, use this, I don't do so well with it."

S'aravi took the blade, it wasn't in the best condition, but it was a weapon. "Thank you, Hawke." He turned around and resumed leading them to Darktown.

In fact, this sword looked nearly the same as the first sword she bought when working under the Emperor's request to deliver the Amulet of Kings. All this sword symbolized to S'aravi was that she is restarting her life, from here this was Kirkwall and she is a foreigner with no knowledge of the land she's found.

Like fighting a scamp, at first it was difficult and she barely made it out alive. After weeks of harsh training closing gates, S'aravi finally could defeat daedroth and daedric warriors.

Just like that, she had to work hard and perhaps she can do the same in Kirkwall.

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><p><em><strong>Hey whoa! Beware! <strong>My "Office Word" program has locked me out so I'm using FanFiction's suggested spell and grammar check called "LibreOffice," now, I'm new at it so if there are a few strange words or typos, please mention them to me so I can log the corrections on LibreOffice's custom dictionary.  
>I hope you still enjoyed this! :)<em>


	7. Recruitment

**_Misdirection_**

_By Kaimaler._

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><p><em><strong>AN:<strong>_

_I do and yet do not apologize for being late with chapters to all my stories. I've gotten Batman: Arkham City and Battlefield 3 just recently._

_Of course the most important is:_

**Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim.  
><strong>

_I will not apologize for playing Skyrim instead of writing, for it is the most amazing game ever and I've been playing since Morrowind; I know, some have been playing since Daggerfall and whatnot, but I'm a 90's kid, I only had time for Morrowind, Oblivion, and now Skyrim.  
>If you aren't considering playing this game, you need to seriously reconsider. It is fantastic, graphics, story, there is originality in EVERY mission, even the smallest ones. It's fun, stunning, and I'm hooked.<br>I'm playing it most of my free time so I'm writing in between turns, for I have two brothers to share it with._

_Well, with that said, enjoy this chapter. :)_

_SKYRIM IS GAME PERFECTION._

_Skyrim is also the reason I'm writing this, so thank Bethesda and Obsidian! I am incorporating certain game elements from Skyrim into this story to make it more in depth since Oblivion barely scratched the surface of the game world unlike Skyrim which has covered every game mechanic and story board possible._

_Instead of the normal battle sequences from Oblivion, I will be adding the statistics of battles into this story. Spells, monsters, lands, etc. etc.  
><em>

_**Review Replies:**_

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><p>They were on their way to the square where Isabela would wait for them.<p>

S'aravi had been in many situations regarding someone else's _business_. This duel seemed rushed, almost... set up. She wouldn't speak a word of it, it wasn't her place, but she'd keep her hand on her blade.

Hawke paused before entering the square, seeing Isabela pacing to and fro, assuming she was being impatient Hawke approached. He didn't want to get back stabbed by this pirate (a trait S'aravi remembers they are infamous for) and he took it easy. He wasn't in a rush anyways, Isabela was the one being chased.

"There you are." She sighed, continuing her pacing. "I've been here for hours. Hayder hasn't shown up, no one has. I don't like this." She spilled her discomfort quickly, stopping again to face Hawke.

Hawke chuckled, someone in a duel doesn't just stop and smell the roses for _hours_ on end; they are either being watched or this Hayder character wasn't planning on sticking to his word.

Isabela was clearly disturbed by his light hearted behavior and just as she was about to reprimand him for it, they all heard footsteps coming from their side. Too many to be one man, that was certain.

Turning, Hawke spotted a woman flanked by two armored men.

"That's the wench! Gut her." She spat, Isabela already armed and ready. Blinking, Hawke saw that his party had their swords drawn and prepared to fight. "Am I really this slow?"

"Yes, now shut up!" Aveline shook her head, the offenders weren't carrying light weight weapons; they were poised to kill and Isabela was already facing down two men.

Hawke joined, seeing Aveline approach the men with her shield blocking their blows. They outnumbered the duelist _stand-ins_, but they were not helpless either. The woman drew a battleaxe Hawke was sure weighed more then him and Aveline combined. Shuddering, he saw he come straight for him.

Why did he have to give his short blade to S'aravi? Close combat is the weakness to this massive axe, now he had to fight it on the womans terms.

_Fantastic_.

Varric shot and arrow off, digging itself into the armor of the axe wielding woman and knocking her back momentarily. One of Varric's specialties thanks to Bianca's power and force behind an arrow. "Hawke!" S'aravi called, throwing him the short blade. "Never try to fight an axe at arms length, get close and aim for her sides!"

Surprised, Hawke nodded, handing off his claymore to her, "I must aid Aveline." S'aravi looked to the battle between Isabela, Aveline, and the two heavy armored men.

Varric and Hawke could handle the big bad boss, Hawke thought, _No problem_.

It all happened in a split second, he had his short sword -_thank you S'aravi_- and the duelist stand in had been shot twice by Varric, keeping her away from him and giving time for Hawke to adjust to the great difference between short sword and claymore. A very large difference it was.

With his short sword in hand, he charged the offending woman, getting behind her reach and slashing as fast as he could, in this case speed was the key to defeating this axe wielding brute; he couldn't give her enough time to swing that massive bulk of steel and leather in his direction.

As Hawke took on the large woman, S'aravi lend her arm to Isabela, with a powerful swing of her blade she caught one of the men by surprise as the claymore sliced down between his neck and shoulder, causing the man to scream in agony and collapse before bled out on the stone.

The second man used dual daggers and turned his attention away from Isabela to S'aravi, with a roar he struck out as S'aravi prepared her blade to defend herself. His dagger caught the sleeve of her cloak, tearing down it and cutting into her forearm at the same time. Once the sleeve split the dagger was pulled away as Isabela released a flurry of her own.

S'aravi's forearm bore a large gash, she grasped it quickly. She thanked Talos that the dagger only sliced the top of her forearm, she knew what would have happened had the man caught the under side of her forearm. Distracted, she failed to realize that Isabela took matters into her own hands and released a flurry of her own daggers, causing the man to fall back to S'aravi.

Snapping her attention back to the man who struggled to defend himself from Isabela's barrage, S'aravi used her good arm to throw her arm over his shoulder and use her claws to catch onto his armor, giving plenty of time for Isabela to strike him with both of her daggers.

After the man stopped struggling, S'aravi dropped him with his deceased ally.

"That takes care of that; let's give Hawke a hand, shall we?" Isabela took off to find Hawke delivering the final blow to the woman.

Grinning, Isabela turned around once she saw Hawke nod to her. Leading them away from the corpses, Isabela climbed the stairs leading to a massive brass colored building. S'aravi stared at it as they joined Isabela at the top of the staircase.

As Hawke stretched out, S'aravi stopped him before he could open the door. "What is this place, Hawke?" She questioned, not taking her eyes off the mountainous tower.

"This is the Chantry, it's where many go to seek blessing from..." He thought it over, S'aravi said she never heard of the Chantry when they first met. Perhaps it was best to avoid a long discussion about Andraste and the other ideas about her. "-from their gods." He thought he spliced the answer well, yet it earned him an unsure look from S'aravi.

"Your people have dedicated this entire tower to their gods? Surely they are displeased." S'aravi commented, now seeing the tower as a temple, not a simple piece of this giant city.

"Displeased?" Hawke repeated, the Chantry tower was larger then he knew and... he knew that. All he had ever seen of the temple was the ground floor where all are welcome, but the higher reaches of the tower was hidden to him. That and... this gigantic building was larger then anything he'd ever seen in Ferelden, it beat the Circle Tower by far. "Why would they be 'displeased', this place is huge." He sent S'aravi a very confused look.

"If only one tower is dedicated to all gods, do you not think that they would find having only _one_ tower to be worshiped between them; when people come to pray or receive blessings, how can they properly distinguish their desires amongst the gods with only one temple?" S'aravi could see this wasn't getting through to Hawke.

Glancing back and forth, Hawke shook his head to confirm her thoughts. "I have no idea what you mean."

"In the Empire there are temples dedicated to each god or goddess. The temple of Akatosh, the temple of Mara, so on and so forth. Each deity represented a purpose, an existence, and a blessing. People would seek out Mara's temple to be blessed with love and comfort, some will find a temple to Kynareth for the enrichment of land and harvest."

Hawke snapped his fingers, "Ah, I see. You're asking if there are ways to worship each god individually without confusion." He rewarded himself mentally for solving another one of S'aravi's homelands' strange rituals. "Well, you see, there isn't multiple gods here... There is only one and his bride, Andraste."

"Only one? And he stands for all things?" An image appeared in S'aravi's mind, all the gods and goddesses being molded into a singular celestial being that presided over all. I wasn't impossible, but she never heard of such a thing.

Just as Hawke was about to answer Isabela huffed impatiently. "I'm sure you two are having a very deep conversation about who goes where when they die, but I'd rather not find out today. Can we continue now?" She gestured to the two great doors.

"Yes, er, I believe she is right. Come on." Hawke forced open the heavy doors, allowing a gap large enough for them to slip in.

Upon entering, S'aravi's fur stood on end, it was so very quiet for a temple; granted that is how it's supposed to be, but the temples in Cyrodiil were always bristling with activity ranging from an avid worshiper who prayed at the temple everyday, to a traveler who was seeking a blessing, and even families who were trying to find out if their lost loved one had found proper peace in death.

Inside this temple was statues made of the same metals as the ones outside it only these depicted richer figures then the slaves kneeling before armored masters. These statues were carved to show people bowing their heads and offering out their hands together, as if asking for something.

As they approached however, S'aravi saw something she only found in shrines to daedra. A statue so large it challenged the height of the tower, looking like it was barely contained by the stone and metal walls surrounding it.

It also shined as if made from pure gold...

Dragged out of her thoughts, S'aravi and the others were stopped by a leather-clad man stepping from the shadows. "Isabela, should've know you'd find me 'ere." He strode out confidently, so far S'aravi saw no other thugs with him.

"Tell your men to burn the letters next time." As the group stopped in front of this man, Isabela stood ahead of them.

He paused in the center and to his right another woman wielding an axe joined him. S'aravi groaned inwardly, this man had an affinity for warrior women who chose the axe. His taste was questionable.

"Castion was heartbroken when he heard about the ship wreck. You should've have let 'im know you survived." The sarcasm dripped from his words and Isabela played along. "Must've slipped my mind." She said with a shrug.

Done with his own joke, the man chuckled at Isabela's innocent play. "Where's the relic?"

"I lost it; Castion's just going to have to do without." She spoke sternly, she knew where this was going as much as the rest of them.

He glared daggers at the pirate woman. "_Lost it_? Just like you _lost_ a ship full of valuable cargo?" He didn't believe a word of it, S'aravi knew not what to think of this relic or the feud between this man and Isabela either. She was in no place to judge and, from the look on Hawke's face, he realized he hadn't a clue who was right or wrong.

"They were _cargo_ Hayder, they were people." With more strength Isabela defended herself.

Wait, people? Cargo? S'aravi blinked, is this pirate suggesting the two are the same?

"Those slaves were worth a hundred sovereigns a head and you let them scurry off into the wilds." He paced slowly, "And now the relic's gone to..." He growled, "Castion won't be happy to hear that, I promise you."

Hawke sent a smug grin to Hayder. "Castion isn't a very happy person is he? Maybe he needs a new hobby?"

Everyone seemingly ignored Hawke's little joke. Isabela stepped up, "There's only one way to settle this." She moved swiftly, snatching the dagger from her back and throwing it towards Hayder's ally, the axe woman. The blade was perfect, it pierced the armor and sunk into the woman's chest smoothly; she died once she hit the ground.

Without another word, Hayder armed himself as did Hawke and his group.

An arrow stuck at S'aravi's feet, she looked up; Hayder brought more then a few friends to the fray. Archers were on the balcony shooting off arrows and forcing them to block and dodge. This was no good, they couldn't fight like this.

"Hawke, are we alone?" S'aravi asked quickly, diving behind a statue for shielding like the rest of the group. "Alone? What? Of course were not! Look at them all!"

She shook her head, "No, I mean-" She snapped her hand and fire burst into her hand. "-are we alone?"

He could see what she meant now, her magic could prove useful against the archers. Of course, fire would just light the arrows for them... "Yeah, but lighting their arrows on fire is probably not the best idea." He suggested just as she changed spells.

"Very well, this should do the trick." She cast frostbite against the barrage of arrows and it stopped them instantly. "You are clear Hawke, I shall take care of the bowmen you go after the swordsmen."

S'aravi used frostbite to create an arch above where Hawke and the others fought, protecting them from the arrows as she worked her way to the balcony behind Hayder.

Hawke saw Hayder swing for Isabela first, determined to end the pirate's life before anyone else. Isabela had her hands full blocking Hayder's greatsword and Hawke couldn't get close enough without ending up on the wrong side of Hayder's blade. He whistled and gestured to Varric to fire at Hayder instead of the other archers.

Varric could see clearly that every time Hawke got closer to Hayder the leather-clad man would swing wide and nearly sever Hawke's arm form his shoulder. He needed to give Hawke time to get in and attack, Isabela couldn't block the blows with daggers.

Aiming at the man, Bianca snapped loudly and the bolt connected with Hayder's side, reducing his speed and strength tremendously.

Hawke had plenty of time to go in a strike at Hayder who changed from the offense to defense very fast, he was already feeling the stress of their attacks.

While they fended off Hayder, S'aravi worked her way to the archers. The ice was too thin and shattered when multiple arrows struck weak points. She cast the spell repeatedly, shielding Hawke, Isabela, Aveline, and Varric from the arrows, yet she maneuvered her spell to allow just enough room for Varric to return fire to the archers.

She noted that Varric's bow or... strange mechanical bow made straight shots, unlike common bows where the arrow arched before hitting its target, which made forming the ice around Varric's shots much easier.

Once she was in range of the archers her hand lit a fireball and cast it on the balcony, halting the constant arrows as the archers escaped the flames. She darted up the staircase and unsheathed her blade and struck one of the archers down before he had a chance to fight back.

Another archer was faster though, he took ashes from a dead bowl of fire embers and threw it into S'aravi's face, causing her to stumble back from her attacker and was blinded once they began firing arrows at her.

Once an arrow pierced her skin she roared out in pain, the arrow struck deep into her arm and she lost her grip on the sword.

Ignoring the ashes in her eyes now, her palm facing the floor, she cast a summon spell and a dark mist grew until a being stepped out of it; the Dark Seducer took one glance at the enemies then took up her sword and shield before charging the archers.

S'aravi knew she was still weak, she lost her breath quickly, she became exhausted just as the battle grew and it was showing itself an immediate issue she needed deal with as soon as this battle ended.

Perhaps she was ill? It wouldn't be the first time she was afflicted with some kind of energy draining sickness and it wasn't out of the question. She was locked away for a long time, she was malnourished, she could have contracted anything.

It could also explain her inability to regenerate her magicka. Blinking, S'aravi began to wonder how she managed to remain unaware of this possibility after having to take that potion to regain her magicka to heal herself.

"For Lord Sheogorath!" S'aravi sighed, Dark Seducer or Aureal, they all shared the same selfless devotion to Sheogorath; even though S'aravi knew she now ruled over the plains of madness, it didn't make her truly Sheogorath or a real deadric prince.

She needed enough time to be able to see again and casting frostbite aided her, the small piece of ice melted quickly when rubbed against her eyes then she wiped off the ashes and water from her eyes. With her sight back, she cast a shock spell over the other archers and it gave her Mazken time to deal with two of them.

The Mazken's size was enough to intimidate their enemies if the actual summoning didn't. From the shocked looks on their faces, S'aravi could've sworn they were ready to surrender as it was.

Remembering what Hawke said about summoners and magic, how they are treated here, S'aravi now used their fear to her advantage and earned the upper hand in this battle.

She barely heard the sounds of Hawke's armor as they came rushing up the stairs to help her fight off the archers, only to watch as her Mazken cut down one and another succumbed to the electric shocks S'aravi kept forcing on them.

With little between them and the archers, the Mazken cut down the others like giant rats; they were too afraid to fight back with full force and were already immobilized by S'aravi's electric spell.

As the last one fell, they all sheathed their swords. S'aravi took the arrow firmly in her grip and pulled it back out quickly, only growling after the arrow was removed. She cast a restoration spell over the wound, sealing it before it bled out and the pain subsided with it.

First thing was first though, before Hawke questioned S'aravi about their new accomplice, he turned to Isabela and demanded answers. "Why did you do that?"

"What, you mean start the fight? Trust me, it's better this way." Isabela seemed indifferent to Hawke; he wasn't afraid of battle, but he'd like to avoid it whenever he could. Especially in the Chantry, a religious temple. "Castion won't hear about me from Hayder, but he'll find my eventually. I'll just have to get him the relic, simple as that." She sounded a little worried, finding this relic didn't sound easy.

"If getting the relic means getting Castion off your back, then I'll help you retrieve it." Hawke was honest about that, it was rare when he wasn't truthful and S'aravi doubted very seriously that Hawke could lie convincingly.

"I still don't know where it is, but you'll be the first to know if I hear anything." She shrugged it off, as if dropping this battle from her mind. "Anyway, thanks for helping me out with Hayder, I think I'll tag along for a while, there might be something I could do for you." Isabela stepped nearly into Hawke, just close enough where he could feel her breath on him. "I have a room at the Hanged Man if you're looking for... _company_ later."

Again, S'aravi found herself waiting for Hawke to snap out of his trance as Isabela strode out of the Chantry, no doubt to return to the Hanged Man.

"Hawke, we should probably leave..." Aveline suggested, she didn't like this as it is, but she didn't want to be accused of it either.

"Right! Yes, good idea. Come on everyone." Hawke agreed, turning around to face them. "But first... S'aravi, what is _that_?"

S'aravi looked to her Mazken, "She is a Dark Seducer." She answered easily, it was no big secret they existed, only an rarely known fact outside of Sheogorath's realm.

"Is she... tame? Are you in control of it?" Hawke seemed concerned about it, as if the Seducer would attack at any moment. She took offense to this and took a defensive stance. "I am Mazken, not an '_it_.'" She corrected forcefully.

Hawke stared on, "Yeah, alright. Then are you in control of this... Mashkin?" S'aravi nearly rolled her eyes, Hawke had trouble with pronunciation.

"I am not in control of anyone, this is a Mazken, a specie from my... other home. I spoke to you earlier about my position as Sheogorath, do you remember it?" S'aravi introduced her soldier. Hawke just stared straight at the dark blue skinned face as if the Mazken was suddenly the most interesting creature in the world.

"Yeah..." He said slowly, not breaking eye contact. "This is one of my many soldier from that realm. A Dark Seducer is a Mazken. They protect me with their lives when able." S'aravi finished, the Mazken merely taking her place beside her.

"So... the other realm thing? It's true?" Hawke asked blindly. "Yes, that is why I bothered to mention it. If it was not true, I would never had mentioned it."

"I still find it hard to believe." Hawke blurted out, all the while Aveline and Varric kept their guard up, readying their weapons just in case. "Mazken, they do not know, return home and guard the city as you did before. I have no further use of you at this time; wait until I call upon you again."

"Yes, my Lord." The Mazken bowed and S'aravi canceled the spell that kept the Mazken in this realm. She disappeared in the same mist of smoke as she arrived, returning to Sheogorath's realm.

"She is gone now, back in her home land, is that better?" S'aravi didn't wish to concern Hawke or his allies, they had already done so much for her. "Yeah, so long as i- _she_'s really gone." Raising her hand, she stopped Hawke. "Worry no more, friend, that Mazken cannot enter this realm without my summons and even then, a Mazken's only duty is to guard me with their lives and the city in their home realm. They will not harm a being unless threatened."

"If you say so... I still want to hear more about that. After all, you are going to be teaching my sister; I want to know _what _you're going to be teaching." He was cautious, understandably so, yet S'aravi felt it best to stray from conjuration unless she was in dire need of it. These people did not appreciate it very much.

"We still need to get out of here before someone comes down here; who knows how many priests that battle could've woken up." Aveline reissued the concern, causing Hawke to begin trotting down the stairs. "Right, don't want to be caught red handed, do we Aveline?"

With a sigh, Aveline pointed to Hawke accusingly. "Only this once, Hawke, and only because it was unavoidable... and because that _pirate_ you acquainted yourself with did something noble."

"Noble? Pirate? You're joking." Hawke replied sarcastically. "Hawke." Aveline warned and Hawke ducked, "Alright, alright. I'm leaving it alone."

S'aravi knew Hawke wanted to leave, wanted to see that Mazken gone and drop it, so she decided to move on from the conversation, however, it was clear that Hawke was more suspicious of her then before. Summoning creatures was nothing new, but something forbidden. She will respect his wishes, she owes him her life, yet she will not pretend to be something she is not.

She will answer all this questions; she wants him to know she is trustworthy with family and friend, not just as a homeless khajiit who is lost in this new land, far away from her own.

As they exited the Chantry, Hawke was already in his satchel searching for the letter. "We need to go to Lowtown, there we'll meet out contact... Anso." He dragged out the sentence oddly, as if reading it for the first time...

"The best district in Kirkwall." Varric smiled happily, heading to Lowtown meant he could fight on familiar ground again, Hightown was still more dangerous then Lowtown by far.

Heading down the streets, S'aravi noted again how quiet it was, no guards, no patrols, as a thief she knew this city was ripe and easy to reach, as an assassin it would be some of the easiest contracts she'd ever have; she'd never admit that she was practically counting doors and locks, searching for the largest most extravagant home she could find to make a few coins.

Never, even on pain of death, would she say a thing about the Brotherhood or the Guild. Not a word.

Once they reached the stairs, S'aravi and them descended into the dark districts of Kirkwall, passing a few questionable folk on the sides of the streets as they made their way into Lowtown. Again, the change from these districts was quick, blink and one would miss it. Like a sudden breeze when exiting a building, they reached Lowtown and were heading off to meet this contact.

As Hawke led them through the streets, each person kept and eye out for dark corners, nooks and shadows that could hide anyone skillful enough to use them.

Lowtown was no different from Hightown, it was quiet, no one dared be on the streets this late, not even the guards.

Turning a corner, Hawke spied a dwarf that looked to be examining something closely. "Are you Anso?" Hawke asked as he approached and the dwarf nearly jumped out of his skin, crying out in shock as he faced Hawke and his group.

"Sweet mother of partha. You can't just run up on someone like that." He took a breath, calming himself before speaking. "Are you... the one that Athenrel told me about, the one looking for work?"

"Did you think I was going to attack you?" Hawke withheld himself from snickering at the dwarf's obvious nervousness.

Shaking his hands in defense, the dwarf answered. "Oh! No, no! Or I hope not, anyhow..." He shrugged his fear off, "My apologies human, I haven't been on the surface long. I keep thinking I'll fall up into that sky any minute."

Varric laughed, "Bartrand used to be like that. Got jumpy every time he stepped outside."

"But I digress, I need some help. Rather badly, in fact. Some product of mine has been... misplaced." He clearly wanted this done quickly. "The men who were supposed to deliver it decided not to. If you retrieve my property, I could reward you handsomely...?"

"Just what did these men steal?"

The dwarf, Anso, chuckled nervously. "Did I say steal? I don't know if I would go that far." He gave a stern look that wasn't well practiced, he seemed confident but hiding a truth. "They seemed like perfectly reasonable smugglers. They smiled and everything!"

Yes, Anso was definitely new to this trade.

"The goods are valuable, however. And illegal. And my client wants them very, very badly." He put emphasis on the clientele before shaking his head. "You know how these templars can be."

Hawke smirked, "You're smuggling lyrium to the templars?" It was less a question then an actual statement, this was a well known smuggling trade apparently.

"Maker's breath!" Varric groaned out, "Between the Chantry, the Carta, and the Coterie."

A very well known trade. S'aravi remembered certain things like this lyrium smuggling, mostly it was slaves to Morrowind or ships from Summerset Isle, they usually carried the most _questionable_ supplies hidden in the many pockets aboard their ships.

Anso shushed Varric, "Shh! By the paragons, not so loudly!" He sighed, "My word! I'm not cut out for this, I should've taken that job sweeping the stables like mother insisted."

Hawke had something against the templars, but he still needed the coin to pay for Bartrand's expedition, he had to get the lyrium, give it to Anso, get paid, and get out as fast as he can. Anything that would help the templars become more dangerous was always a threat to his sister. He wouldn't stand for it unless he was rewarded.

"Make it worth my time, and I'll help you." He demanded, it was a set price and no room for negotiations.

"Oh, I will. Or... I'll try to." Anso wasn't a just calm person, S'aravi would never trust such a jumpy man with smuggled goods; by the Nine who would? How did this dwarf ever get a contract? "The gentlemen conduct their business at night in a little hovel within the alienage. If you have to kill them, then I guess it can't be avoided. But I'm sure they'll be reasonable!"

S'aravi almost felt like smacking this dwarf into sense, reasonable? Smugglers? Anso was the most dense person she ever met.

Hawke just turned and left, he felt that getting this lyrium was contrary to keeping his sister out of dealings with the templars, but he needed coin and he needed it before the expedition found itself a new partner.

He wasn't tired though, even after that battle with Hayder and his crew, Hawke still felt able bodied enough to take on a new threat. If this work got rid of a few dangerous criminals while he was at it, then he wouldn't complain. Deal with the smugglers, get the supplies and be done with this.

In all honesty, he was beginning to hate the blue liquid as time went on.

Descending the stairs to the alienage, Aveline paused a moment before continuing slowly. "The alienage shouldn't be this quiet..."

S'aravi's senses picked up sounds of people behind doors, but it was muffled, she couldn't tell if it was the residents of the alienage hiding from the smugglers or if it was just night and they were fast asleep.

She wagered that it mattered not to them, they were going to take out these smugglers anyways, might even calm a few citizens of the alienage while they're at it.

Hawke glanced around, usually there was some kind of life, but right now he was searching for the abandoned hovel, it was the only place the smugglers could go without an outcry in the alienage. These elves protect their own as much as they can, which is a good thing.

They entered the hovel and were met wit silence, not a being stood in the main room. Cautiously stepping through the room, Hawke opened the door on the end, revealing the same thing; not a soul.

Hawke blinked in confusion, were they not here? These buildings weren't very large, with two rooms empty not many people could actually fit into the last small bedroom.

He was ready to find out though.

Turning the door handle, Hawke could hear the smugglers inside announcing Hawke's arrival by unsheathing their swords and readying their bows. "Get ready, we're going to have to force our way in. Aveline, you first, use your shield to block the arrows so we can get in close."

Aveline hid herself and them behind her shield as much as she could before barging into the building, arrows cracked upon hitting the metal shield and the archers prepared their bows again.

Fighting at a distance, Varric opened up with a barrage of arrows courtesy of his mechanical bow Bianca who fired rapidly. Two archers fell, one injured, one dead.

Hawke went in close, his speed gave him enough time to run his shortsword through a smuggler, when another attacked he blocked. Aveline bashed her shield into the smuggler, knocking him off his feet and allowing Hawke time to compose himself.

S'aravi fought at a distance with Varric, unable to lift the greatsword due to her sore arm, she cast spells over the smugglers. Fire blew like the wind, coating the smugglers in the inferno, they panicked, trying their best to put out the fire futilely, S'aravi didn't stop until her magicka was drained and she was forced to take a break.

This was enough for Hawke and Aveline to take down two smugglers and Varric to hit another archer, leaving two terrified smugglers left.

One searched for an exit, he was ready to run just as the other fought against Aveline, meeting his sword with her shield as she waited for an opening. Hawke was on the approach, he noticed the smugglers fear and didn't raise his weapon against him.

"Run." The smuggler accepted and ran out the building as fast as he could, leaving his dead allies behind.

The last smuggler was hit by Varric's bolt, stunning him so Aveline could get a clear shot and ran him through. With the last of the smugglers dead, Hawke began peaking around the old barrels and crates for Anso's valuable cargo.

Varric tapped a chest with his hand, "If the goods are anywhere, they're in here."

Hawke nodded and joined Varric by the large strapped chest. Pulling the lid open, Hawke stared at the contents before dropping the lid closed. "It's empty."

With a twitch, Varric growled. "Waste of bloody time. Who put us up to this?"

"I guess we have no choice but to go back to Anso and tell him." Hawke's displeasure was blazing, he was angered that he fought a group of smugglers for nothing. Anso would most likely know what happened, if not him, Hawke would find out who put his friend's life and his own in danger for an empty chest.

Hawke felt the urge to smash the empty chest in hopes he'd feel better, but he kept himself and walked away.

S'aravi looked around quickly, trying to find something, a hidden compartment perhaps that hid this valuable lyrium as Hawke and the others exited the hovel. "Why chase down a group of smugglers for nothing?..." She stood from the chest and left the room.

This hovel didn't have many rooms or many items that could be hiding anything like a shipment of lyrium, S'aravi had seen the size of the bottles, they were delicate and quite large, they had to be stored carefully to avoid displeasing the buyer.

Disappointed and confused, S'aravi knew there may be other reasons to hunting these smugglers and getting paid for it. Perhaps Anso or someone else desired these specific smugglers dead but didn't want to get their hand dirty. It was probable, she had seen it done many times before.

That was that, she supposed, they are still getting paid the coin Hawke has been working for. It didn't matter if they did or did not bring back the goods, if there was any in the first place.

S'aravi opened the door to the hovel and saw Hawke and the others standing by the large tree in the center, watching something she couldn't see from her distance.

Walking up behind her allies, she peeked from behind Aveline's shoulder to see a very large group of armored strangers all poised to strike. Directly ahead of Hawke was a woman who looked as mad as Hawke did when he found there was nothing in the chest.

"That's not the elf! Who is that?"

A man unsheathed his sword, "It doesn't matter, we were told to kill whoever enters the house!"

It was a standoff, they saw the greater numbers and assumed their own victory.

"S'aravi, what's the best spell you got?" Hawke whispered to her. "Best or most powerful Hawke?" She counted out the men surrounding them. "The one that kills the most people at the same time."

"I have an idea of a spell, I'll try to busy as many as possible." S'aravi stepped back to concentrate, powerful area spells took a lot of energy to cast and at this moment she didn't know how much she could cast without becoming too exhausted to continue.

_Worth a try_. She charged her spell, an inferno began circling her feet before spreading out. The spell charged, every second it became more powerful as the others engaged the unknown attackers.

They weren't able to do much damage, with so many they spent their time either blocking or earning new wounds. Hawke and Aveline were back to back trying to fend the other men off and Varric had found himself a stack of crates to stand on and fire at the men attacking him.

Those who approached S'aravi made it only a few feet before being burned, the tornado of fire encasing her made it impossible to reach her, sword or arrow.

"Now would be a good time! Or, you know, whenever you feel like it!" Hawke groaned against the stress of his blade and his inability to block three attackers at once.

With a roar, S'aravi released the fiery storm upon the strangers. Howling in pain, many succumbed to the fires and fell, others were blown back by the force at which the inferno was released. It was timed correctly and S'aravi opened holes within the fire to keep her allies from burning alive like their enemies.

"Fantastic!" Hawke laughed, finally able to fight back.

Now on an even field, Hawke, Aveline, and Varric all took their stance against the offenders while S'aravi collapsed, she was drained and needed time to recuperate. S'aravi panted, she must be afflicted by something, she didn't feel ill, but she was far weaker then she should be. She remembered using that spell when daedra, clannifear, and daedroth surrounded her, she never felt this tired after casting it.

In fact, she's never felt this tired after casting any spell, it was as if the spell drained her strength and magicka reserves; she felt out of it, but she could feel her magicka trying to regenerate, giving her enough strength to cast a few destruction spells to her allies' aid.

Of course, she suggested to herself, the large shackle around her neck certainly didn't help her when it came to lengthy battles. It threw her off balance, even though it did make sure no one would get lucky and slit her throat when she's not looking.

"S'aravi's down! Cover her Varric!" Hawke called out and Varric ran over to her, firing off bolts from Bianca when he reached her.

"You hit?" The dwarf asked, "No, that spell took a lot out of me is all." She came to a kneel, firing off fireballs and frost spikes at their enemies. "That's what I want to hear!" Varric glanced at the fire in S'aravi's hand. "Hold still."

Staring at the dwarf, she watched as he lit the end of his next arrow on fire from the flames in her hand then firing them off rapidly. The arrows stuck into the armor, barely striking the man wearing it, but the fire lit up his clothing, catching him on fire after he failed to put them out. "Now that's what I'm talking about."

Laughing, S'aravi charged her flame spell for another flurry of fireballs.

Hawke and Aveline protected each other flawlessly, defending each others' backs and striking when the time was right. With a chuckle, Hawke finally struck down their leader and the number dwindled until Hawke's group outnumbered their attackers.

With fire, arrows, sword, and shield, the last strangers were picked off and they finally could take a breath.

"Well, that was bracing." Hawke said brightly. Aveline put a hand on his shoulder and gestured to S'aravi who was still kneeling on the ground. "Oh, right."

Varric was right beside her, letting her relax. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Hawke kneeled in front of S'aravi who panted too heavily to answer. Varric holstered Bianca and answered in S'aravi's place. "She just said that... _spell_ she used, the big fiery one that blew up had taken a lot out of her. So she's just catching up, she's fine though, aren't you?" He patted her back supportingly.

"I... will be. I feel as though every bit of strength has been sucked out of me, not the first time that has happened, but it is the first time I have ever been so worn from using a common spell." S'aravi leaned back, her lungs felt like ice, her hands shook, and her magicka reserves had barely restored themselves. "I am better, I can continue."

"You sure? I don't want you fighting a battle you can't fight." Hawke offered his hand to help her up, she accepted and they both rose, S'aravi was unsteady though and took a moment to readjust herself. "My magicka regenerates quickly, I just feel sapped; thank you for your concern though, Hawke. I am better, as we move I shall fully regain my strength. I simply cannot cast that powerful a spell again, at least, not for a while."

With a nod, Hawke sheathed his sword. "That's fine, we're done here, all we're doing now is telling Anso about his missing lyrium and heading home; we made a good bit of gold today."

Stepping over a few bodies, the group made their way back to Anso. Hawke kept S'aravi close to him, ready to catch her in case she was still too weakened to walk.

As they passed the giant tree, they were stopped by yet another mysterious person with less then noble intentions. He wore the same armor as the group that attacked them a moment ago and he looked ready to kill a bear with his hands.

"I don't know who you are, friend, but you made a serious mistake coming here." He ground out through his teeth, he was seething in rage. "Lieutenant, I want everyone in the clearing! Now!"

S'aravi sighed, more of these people? How many could they possibly have?

Behind the man, up the stairs, an armored man stumbled out, bleeding from more places then S'aravi could count. He choked, nearly falling over, "Captain..." He gargled before tumbling down a few stairs.

Everyone was equally confused, watching as a figure strode out from behind the dead man. "You're men are dead." He approached without a care, this _Captain_ posed no threat anymore. "And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can."

The man stood facing Hawke, ignoring the captain instead focusing on them. "You're going no where, slave!"

S'aravi gave the man a bored look, he was determined, she'd give him that much.

As the captain gripped the white-haired man's shoulder, he turned around, his skin gave off a blue glow as an energy built in his hand, raising it, he plunged his hand into the captains chest, for a moment, the captain was still alive before the man threw him to the ground.

He stopped glowing, snapping at the dead man, "I am not a slave."

It was silent, if but for only a second. "I apologize." The man spoke to Hawke directly, "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so numerous."

Hawke just shook it off, "I take it they were looking for you."

"Correct." He faced Hawke. "My name is Fenris. These men were imperial bounty hunters seeking to return a magisters lost property. Namely myself. they were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

Hawke chewed the inside of his cheek, "So everything Anso said was a lie, then?"

"Not everything, your employer was simply not who you believed." Fenris answered smoothly, he didn't seem concerned that there was a very mad warrior and his motley crew of fighters behind him who did not like being lied to.

Hawke, unlike Aveline and Varric, just shrugged it off. "If you couldn't fight them, why not just run?"

"There is a time when you must stop running, when you turn and face the tiger." Unlike Anso, however, Fenris was very sure about his actions and his words."

Glancing over the elf, Hawke spoke up. "That seems like a lot of effort for one slave..." He didn't intend on offending the elf, just questioning about how valuable he was to this magister. Fenris didn't mind in the slightest, "It is."

As if someone had just thrown a bone to a dog, Hawke lit up and pointed to Fenris. "Does this have something to do with those markings?"

Fenris glanced down to his arms, "Yes, I imagine I must look strange to you." He held up his arms momentarily. "I did not receive these markings by choice. Even so, they have served me well. Without them I would still be a slave."

Despite what he said, S'aravi could clearly tell he did not appreciate the ability they gave him fully. Aveline could see it as well, the looks she sent this elf spelled out distrust and caution to the white haired elf.

Hawke snickered to himself, "Anso's job did seem a little too easy."

"Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have become too accustomed to hiding." Fenris replied, for the first time, a little uneasily, but corrected himself quickly. "If I may ask; what was in the chest? The one in the house?"

Hawke looked to the abandoned house, "It was empty."

More to himself then to Hawke, Fenris commented on it. "I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know."

"You were expecting something else?" Aveline joined the conversation, she felt like this talk would go on until she did something about it anyways. Hawke had a knack for keeping discussion going and going well beyond the original point. It was starting to look like that.

"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait, nothing more." Fenris was disappointed, yet decided not to dwell on it.

Hawke pouted, "All that for an empty chest?"

Fenris shook his head, "No. There's more." Fenris walked beside Hawke and knelled next to the corpse of the captain. He kneeled over the body and searching the satchels on his belt, finding something, Fenris opened a letter to the captain and scanned it over, his face now contorted into spite as he finished the letter.

"It's as I thought. My former master accompanied them to the city." Hawke was about to speak up when the elf stopped him, "I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees." He spoke fast, as if readying himself to run away any moment.

"You led us into a trap and now you want our help?" Just before, Hawke remembered how angry he was when he found out he entered a building with nothing inside _for_ nothing. It put his friends at risk; that was unarguably the one thing Hawke would never stand for, not without knowing what they were walking into.

"If Anso had told you to divert an ambush of Tevinter bounty hunters, would you have done it?" Fenris retorted. Hawke merely raised a brow, "I would've charged more."

"My funds are limited, but I will find a way to repay you if you help me now. I swear it." S'aravi growled lowly, he sounded honest, but she still knew so little about the elves in this land. Sometimes people are right when it came to categorizing species about their honor and loyalty. S'aravi would even admit that many khajiit are smugglers from Elsweyr, she would also counter it with the Empire taking land from the khajiit repeatedly. Every race was more or less respectable, sometimes individuals within the race will prove that not all are like that.

Were the elves of this land common to be tricksters like some dunmer or khajiit?

Grudgingly, Hawke nodded. "Very well. We'll help you."

S'aravi blinked, is Hawke serious?

"The magister is staying at a mansion in Hightown. Meet me there as soon as you can. We must enter before morning." He was stern about this as well, would this magister leave without his goal in hand? S'aravi was beyond confusion.

"Hawke-?" She intruded. "He lied to us, nearly got us killed, and you agree to work with him? How can we be sure it is not just another trap by either him or these... Tevinter hunters?"

A little surprised at S'aravi's sudden interest, Hawke glanced between his group and Fenris. "We were never in any real danger; we handled them just fine."

"Just fine? You and Aveline were surrounded, Varric could not even fire a bolt without having to dodge a blade; we cannot trust him." S'aravi had no concern if her argument regarding the trustfulness of this elf was rude, announcing it like he wasn't even there.

"S'aravi we're fine." Hawke took her forearm in his hand, "I know you got hurt, but we have potions for that. If you need one all you have to do is speak up." Hawke pulled a red vial from his satchel and put it in her hand, her claws clinked when they make contact with the glass vial.

"I need not healing, I can do that myself." She bared her teeth though her face was still hidden from the elf. "I am not thinking of myself Hawke; I owe you my life, I will let you throw it away on a hunch. He could be lying through his teeth, I have met many like that."

Fenris narrowed his eyes, "I do not mean to deceive, I need help and I will pay you back. I thought I made that clear enough." He stepped closer, trying to see beneath the hood, when she turned to hide her face more, he became just as suspicious about her as she is of him. "Who are you?"

"I am S'aravi." She introduced, "I am... _indentured_ to Hawke."

Looking to Hawke, Fenris was wary now. "Indentured?"

Varric shook his hands in Hawke's defense. "Just another way of saying we saved her life and she wants to return the favor. That's all." Hawke smile was unsure. "Why, what did you think it meant?" Hawke asked and Varric only rested his hand in his palm.

"Slave perhaps, she wears a shackle." Fenris pointed out, the cloak couldn't hide the metal ring around her neck.

"I was captured by Tevinter who were taking me to their city to sell me into slavery, Hawke stopped them, were it not for him I would have died. A life for a life, I have a debt to him and his allies."

He hummed. "Then it is out of respect." Fenris commented, "I assure you, S'aravi, I am not trying to trick any of you. I need help, I cannot do this alone."

S'aravi growled at the elf, "Then you stay with us the entire time, if at any point I even think you are about to betray us; I will hunt you down, elf."

He didn't like the treatment, but his years of experience in mistrust and caution told him that is was well deserved. He was wondering now if Hawke would have gone along with the plan anyways, so long as he was paid... Coin could buy anything these days. Including a mans' life, figuratively and literally.

"Then we mustn't waste time. I will meet you there." Fenris agreed, he didn't have plans to turn on them; he never knew them before tonight. Perhaps Hawke had many enemies?

"We'll be there, don't worry." Hawke assured the elf just before he left them.

As Fenris left their sight, Hawke turned to S'aravi.

"That was... off." Hawke wasn't mad, just a interested at the khajiit's sudden _voice_. She never spoke with that much force against anything they did before; even when they teamed up with Isabela a few hours ago. S'aravi kept to herself, now she was a little more abrasive.

"I do not trust someone who spends their life in lies, Hawke. Just because he may have been a slave, now free, does not mean he will not take any chance he can to get further from those that hunt him." She rubbed her sore forearm, the wound healed by restorative magic. "Even if he has no intentions now, understand this if nothing else; someone who hides and tells lies for so long will do nothing but, eventually it becomes a part of them as much as an arm or leg."

Aveline took a deep breath, "She has a point Hawke."

Hawke bit his lip, "I know; that's what bothers me."

With a smile, S'aravi decided to also support Hawke's argument. "Of course, you could be right and all Fenris truly wants is someone to help him; being hunted by what you fear most tends to change people. So you could very well be right, Hawke." She didn't want to shoot down Hawke's opinion, she was here to help no matter what.

"Yeah, that's also true..." Hawke sighed tiredly, "Let's just do this and go home." He chuckled sadly, feeling more worn out then before. He was good with his blade, but words always seemed to take up more energy.

"I agree." Varric huffed and led the others out of the alienage.

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><p><em><strong>Hey whoa! Beware! <strong>My "Office Word" program has locked me out so I'm using FanFiction's suggested spell and grammar check called "LibreOffice," now, I'm new at it so if there are a few strange words or typos, please mention them to me so I can log the corrections on LibreOffice's custom dictionary.  
>I hope you still enjoyed this! :)<em>


	8. Turning Stones

**_Misdirection_**

_By Kaimaler._

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><p><em><strong>WHAT A WAIT AMIRITE?!<strong>_

_Sorry, lotta stuff around and been kinda distracted. I felt like coming back to it so here is the newest chapter!_

_**Please excuse the rustiness of my writing, it's been a while since I worked on this story and thus my skill in any form of writing will need to be sharpened over time before I get back to where I was. :P**  
><em>

**_Review Replies are posted at the bottom of the chapter!_**

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><p>They were leaving Lowtown for this manor that Fenris spoke of, the one he wanted Hawke and his group to aid him in clearing. He was hunting someone or multiple people, he had not told them much about what he needed from them other than that he could not deal with it alone. Hawke is a talented and powerful warrior, S'aravi had no doubt that they could handle themselves. even if Fenris turned on them while inside this manor.<p>

S'aravi admitted she did not mind the elven man, so far at least. She had no way to prove he was either friend nor foe. He was hesitant in speaking, but did not appear to have malice in his voice; except when he killed the slaver. Which S'aravi, naturally, approved of.

Regardless of what they knew so far, S'aravi could not tell anyone in the group that she knew what was to happen. She had freed slaves before, even seen those few who _liked _being slaves, a rare occurrence, and she never could predict what their minds and hearts would tell them to do once they gained their long lost freedoms.

Whomever Fenris really was, and is now that he is a freed slave, S'aravi was keen on finding out. The sooner the better. Hawke went head first into his decision to help the marked elf and while S'aravi knew what that was like, she had questioned the people before she accepted and made sure what she was asked to do was in the right and whom she was asked to saved _wanted _to be saved.

Hawke simply accepted Fenris' request and planned to meet him in Hightown, in a small residential block just off the side of the Chantry. They would have to pass both of the massive buildings to find the manor Fenris spoke of.

While still unsure and suspicious, S'aravi also knew that she was a target for the elf. Hawke had easily embraced her heritage, he and his allies had no qualms about her specie which they had never encountered before. She could trust Hawke,, Anders, Aveline, Varric, Bethany, and the Hawke sibling's mother. S'aravi was wary around anyone or anything else, she knew that her race could prove a problem in this isolated city. Fenris may reveal himself as being one of those problems.

So she kept her head down, when she had spoken to Fenris briefly she had attempted to keep herself hidden, spoke differently than she usually did and covered her face and snout completely. If Fenris had any sense, this action should concern him, at the very least interest him. She hoped that he was not that bright.

Hawke was on his way straight to where Fenris had left too, S'aravi could not figure out why the elf did not simply just walk there with them. The group had no intentions of dragging this out and, if this person is as wily as Fenris made them out to be, the person could escape before they got there. With this on their minds, Hawke lead them hurriedly through Lowtown, taking the stairs into Hightown was a rather quick trip as the stairs were relatively slanted, making it much easier for them to climb and not get tired.

Once they entered Hightown, S'aravi tucked her tail around her leg and made a point to cover herself. Lowtown was not as bad, most of the people were either working at the docks, drunk, laboring away, asleep, or just did not want to bother with something as confusing as a new race in Kirkwall. Hightown was full of pious wealthy folk who took offence to anything they could not wrap their heads around.

S'aravi had picked up quickly on the people around them, she had to. While she had not much experience, from what the others had mentioned in passing she could put the pieces together. Hightown was a much richer district anyways, she would have assumed this even if she knew nothing about the city.

However different this city was, S'aravi was none too keen on the idea of being arrested or killed just because they had no experience with the Khajiit people before. If the people were as unnerved by elves as Hawke told her they were, she had no idea what they would do if they discovered a sentient cat race walking around their homes.

They had approached the Chantry swiftly, Hawke and the others being rather anxious to see what was going to happen. S'aravi's concerns were still valid and she felt that it was best to speak to Hawke about Fenris before they came into earshot of the elf.

"Hawke," S'aravi began, eyeing the tower they were just passing. Hawke glanced to her, they were still making their way to their destination. "I know there is no way to be sure if Fenris is someone we can trust, I simply wish to have a way to defend ourselves in the case that he is not."

The black haired warrior smirked, "I understand, your concern for me is touching, truly." Hawke remarked kindly, "Maybe he's a decent fellow and maybe he isn't. I'm sure we'll find out and cross that bridge when we meet it. Granted he can glow and rip people's hearts out, but we still outnumber him. Besides, if he tried anything, I bet you could handle him alone." He sent the Champion a wink.

S'aravi sighed, smiling to her savior. "I do hope I can in my weakened state."

"Do you think that the collar around your neck has anything to do with you being so easily tired?" Aveline questioned, "If this is not normal for you of course, magic is not something I have much experience with."

"It may be draining my magicka, I do feel significantly weaker than I have done in the past. I have never felt this weakness on my body or magicka, it is strange, as if my ability to regenerate my mana is greatly slowed." She shrugged it off, "I cannot do anything about the collar now though, so I will have to learn how to work around it. I am thankful I have skill in many other forms of fighting."

Varric grinned at S'aravi, "Ha! All those _titles _you quoted to us couldn't have been easy to earn. At least, for all our sakes, I hope not."

She chuckled at the dwarf, "They took time to earn of course, but I probably had an easier time with it than most. I suppose the Nine blessed me with natural skill in combat. Otherwise, I would have been slain long ago."

Hawke tapped her with his elbow, "Alright, than what's your great plan to deal with our new elven friend? If he turns bad of course."

"I am unsure, I do not know the extent of his strengths. We will all have to keep our eyes open." They all began to climb the stairs to the residential block outside the Chantry. S'aravi's discussion having slowed their haste. "When you have a wild card in the mix, it is a good idea to keep them in front of you. Stabbing one in the back is easier if you are actually _behind _them."

Varric laughed, "Truer words have never been spoken!"

Hawke cleared his throat, "There he is, probably not best to voice our plans when he can hear us."

S'aravi looked to Varric, who slyly returned her humored gaze, both of them stifling their amusement. She hoped that her sensibility was earning her some place with Hawke's allies. Varric had always been friendly with her, the smart mouthed dwarf having even less concern with her race than even Hawke did.

She was not so blind that she could not see that Hawke and the others were giving her questioning looks occasionally. The only one who took to her immediately was Varric, who seemed more forefront with his thoughts. His concerns were not bothering him enough to speak up about though, which made him the only one of the group who was not still hung up on her foreign appearance.

They approached Fenris the moment they reached the top of the stairs, the elf was clearly waiting for them. How he arrived so fast was a mystery to them all.

"No one has left the mansion, but I've heard nothing within." _Straight to the point. _S'aravi grinned, even though in the back of her head she was still worried about how she would hide herself if they find a fight inside the manor. "Danarius may know we're here, I wouldn't put it past him."

Fenris sounded annoyed and expectant. He must have encountered this _Danarius _before, S'aravi had not heard the name, but she had never heard of Kirkwall before being dragged here by slavers either. It was a safe bet that anyone famous or infamous would still be a meaningless name to her.

"I could stand to know a little more about this Danarius." Hawke asked, raising a brow in question. He had agreed to help, but S'aravi's warning of danger must have gotten through to him. On some level.

"He is a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium." He answered simply, earning a dismissive huff from Varric. "Oh, Is that all? Nothing to worry about, then."

Fenris ignored Varric's comment, even though Hawke was smiling at his friends' wit. "There, he is a wealthy mage with great influence. Here," Fenris seemed to put on a faint grin, "He is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him."

Hawke resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "What's the worst that could happen?"

"I do not fear death. That does not mean we should be reckless." With that, Fenris turned to lead them to the mansion Danarius was hiding in. S'aravi and Varric sending each other an exasperated look. This elf was serious... about everything.

They entered the building, no defenses were immediately detectable. Fenris had clearly examined the door beforehand as he was quick to walk in. Somehow, the elf did not seem the sort to rush in without checking for traps and enemies first. Once they were all inside, they listened to the building, expecting to hear some signs of life within its walls.

It was silent for a moment, until a creak louder than the usual setting of the structure reached their ears. "I am not afraid of you, Danarius!" Fenris called out into the room. There was no reply and the house seemed to get even quieter.

S'aravi was a little on edge, something felt wrong. A Magister is _supposedly _a powerful person, if someone were coming to kill him, he would have definitely put up traps to protect himself and his belongings. Knowing this, S'aravi resting her sword hand on the hilt of her weapon, ready to defend herself and her group.

Everyone else had the same idea, even Varric had his weapon out. They knew something was up, that something was going to come out of the woodwork soon and they had to be prepared for it.

Hawke opened the only other door in the room, S'aravi kept herself close to Fenris' back though, her debt to Hawke was not a chore to her, she would uphold her dignity and honor with all the power she had. Fenris was a threat to that, to Hawke, and she was not about to give him the chance.

In a strange twist of fate, Fenris was not the first to strike and neither was Hawke.

Right as Hawke entered the doorway, a trap went off and blew Hawke back into the room. Before S'aravi could properly react, strange creatures morphed from beneath the floors. Aveline, Varric, and Fenris were quick to fight them back, but S'aravi ignored the mysterious apparitions and went straight to Hawke.

She kneeled down, he was not unconscious, but he was shaken by the trap. "Hawke! Are you alright?" S'aravi hovered over him and he moved fast, taking her hand and she help lift him upright. "I'm fine, just seeing a few stars. Nothing out of the ordinary!" He grinned, appearing to be unscathed by the trap.

Nodding, S'aravi took hold of her own blade and followed Hawke into the room to help their allies fight off the monsters. There were quite a few stuffed into the small kitchen-looking room.

However, to her surprise, they seemed very easy to defeat. Taken down with little to no hassle by anyone in the group, a single slash was enough to cause them to disappear into a smog. S'aravi was anticipating more of a fight, but the creatures fell so easily to their blades, that they were done shortly after they began.

"Huh," S'aravi blinked, all the creatures already dealt with. "That was very easy..."

Aveline sheathed her sword, "You've never seen a Shade before, have you?" She used what little knowledge she had about S'aravi to figure out that the foreign beast had no idea what a demon was nor the fade.

She shook her head, "I have never heard of anything like them... but they are so easily slain... Is this a trick of some form? If this man is as powerful as Fenris says, there is no plausible way that these _Shades _are the only thing he has to defend himself with."

Fenris approached S'aravi, "He is and I doubt it, more than likely we will see more powerful demons deeper within the mansion." He looked around the room. "Danarius! Can you hear me? Your pets cannot stop us!"

S'aravi sighed and continued to follow Hawke into the next room, hoping that the rest of the enemies within were just as easy. She preferred easy jobs, it meant she could sleep longer.

Just as before, S'aravi watched Fenris' back while Hawke lead their group further into the mansion. The room they came across appeared more like a hall way, connected to two other rooms to their right and on the far wall. Hawke chose the right door, heading down the passageway and opening another door into a much larger room.

Hawke was tentative about the steps he took, not hungry to be blown back again. He watched his steps and they found themselves looking up two sets of stairs that connected higher up, on an elevated part of the manor. She assumed the most obvious door was the one Danarius was most likely hiding in. The large, decorated doors in the center at the top of the stairs.

If Danarius' ego was big enough for it of course.

As Hawke began to take his steps with more confidence, he stepped on another trap which lit fire around him. He stepped off of it, putting the fire out while Shades began to form from the floors all around them and they all sprung into action. Each member of the group heading in a different direction, so as to not have their backs opened for an attack.

"Again! I swear..." Hawke groaned, relieved that the fire on his boots went out quickly.

Some of the Shades fell quickly, S'aravi only struck them once or twice and then they faded away. The ones that materialized in the center of the room were not as easily dispatched.

Hawke and Aveline were already trying to cut their way through the tougher crowd, Varric, Fenris, and S'aravi joining in after dealing with the lesser Shades.

The creatures fought with their clawed hands, striking out slowly against the group. Their hits did not hurt so much as they could knock the receiver backwards. The hits were more blunt force rather than claws like S'aravi's own.

She was able to kill one without too much of a hassle, sinking her blade into the creature's abdomen. It sighed smoke and then disappeared like the others, Hawke and Varric finished off the final two Shades after her's was dead.

Assuming they were done, she was about the sheath her sword.

A louder booming howl burst forth from the middle of the room, fire spraying out like water. More Shades appeared around the edges of the room, but a fiery beast took S'aravi's attention first.

Hawke charged after it immediately and S'aravi joined him, she had no idea if this beast was anything like the Shades or if it was truly a tough opponent. The others dealt with the Shades, keeping them off Hawke and S'aravi as they struck out against the creature bathed in flame. Hawke's sword was quick and the fire creature was being hurt by it, but it was more resilient than the weaker Shades.

S'aravi remembered the flame astronachs from her time exploring Cyrodill and beyond, if this fiery demon was anything like them, than he was weak to water and ice.

She didn't have much magicka strength yet, but it was worth a try. Summoning up an ice spell, S'aravi blew the magical frozen shards at the beast. As she hoped, it roared out in pain, the ice hurting more than any blade. Hawke's sword cut through the smoke and steam around them, it trailed behind him as he swiftly struck the creature with more powerful blows.

Aveline, Varric, and Fenris attempted to handle the Shades, more of them appeared and encroached upon Hawke and S'aravi. Seeing the inky black demons near, S'aravi turned her attention away from the fire beast to distract the other Shades so Hawke could focus on his own enemy.

These were easy Shades, quick to be disposed of, but were difficult to manage in large numbers. They piled in, barely giving S'aravi any elbow room to fight back.

Aveline gave her aid with the Shades that threatened to overwhelm S'aravi. She bashed her shield into their sides, forcing them away and giving them both more room to fight back. S'aravi fought back to back with Aveline, the Shades dissipating much quicker now that she had someone to watch her own back.

Hawke was far more skilled with a sword than S'aravi had been aware of before. He was powerful and struck down the fiery demon with a force she had not seen in all of Cyrodill. Within a matter of minutes, Hawke had dealt with the demon and had turned to help his allies against the swarm of Shades.

Once he joined in, the Shades were cleared out of the room with little effort and they were all able to catch their breaths. S'aravi began to realize how much of a stress the collar on her was, it was heavy and threw her off balance many times in the fight. She was unsure how to handle this issue effectively.

They all regrouped once they were sure no more Shades would appear from the floors and walls. It was safe to relax and recover from the fight for now. No one had been truly hurt, bruises and small cuts were no concern of theirs and did not stop them from fighting at full strength.

S'aravi was able to keep herself relatively hidden from Fenris, who paid her no mind. She still kept in mind that his reaction to her could be much worse than those of Hawke's group. To protect herself and Hawke, she would attempt to have her identity remain a mystery to the elf.

"He must be here somewhere, Danarius would never flee." Fenris looked around the room, having the same idea S'aravi had about the room at the very top of the stairs. To S'aravi, it was a good thing to think that the Magister was not a coward, it would make him easier to hunt.

Hawke headed up the stairs, everyone ready for another fight. They all had the same thought, that fighting Danarius would be harder than the Shades. If his power was as great as they all believed it was.

Hawke was behind them all this time, smiling at himself. "You go first this time! I won't be the one to get caught in a trap again."

S'aravi shook her head and made sure everyone had their weapons ready, taking a moment before swinging the door wide open and stepping back with her blade drawn. The group were ready for the fight to come, but when all they received was silence, they were all confused.

The stillness was unnerving at first, but was quickly ended by another demon appearing from behind them. It twisted up from behind them, its strange tattered robes flowing from its corpse-like body. Hawke turned around, catching sight of the demon.

With a heavy sigh, Hawke took the first blow from the demon's magic. The force of the hit threw Hawke against the far wall, breaking a few clay pots as he fell.

S'aravi tried to cover him from the demon's barrage, thankfully those closer to the demon were just as quick as she was. They all attacked the demon the moment it came into view.

There were no other demons around, no Shades and no other fire demon that S'aravi could see. It was facing them alone, but the more S'aravi paid attention to how her allies fought the demon, the more she realized it was not a real threat to them.

It was gone in a matter of seconds as Hawke got the final swing in, satisfying his vengeance for the earlier attack. The demon let out a ear shattering screech before floating to the ground and disappearing in a burst of light. Hawke growled at an invisible corpse, kicking the ground under him.

"Are you kidding me! The Maker is doing this on purpose now..." Varric laughed loudly, walking past Hawke and into the room they were trying to enter a moment ago. "Don't laugh! It's not funny!"

Even Aveline was giggling to herself, causing Hawke to huff and storm away indignantly. "Oh, I don't know, Hawke. It was a little funny."

S'aravi chuckled, following her allies into the room. They were all still prepared to fight Danarius, the weak demon they slayed was no hindrance on their progression in the mansion.

However, they were met with nothing but a cleared room. There were a few chests and articles of clothing left about, but no _body_ was inside at all.

S'aravi was unsure how to react and it appeared the others were in the same boat as her. They entered the room and looked around, all rather off put that their hunt for the Tevinter Magister was ended so abruptly and anti-climatically. Varric took a seat at the table, Aveline picked up one of the books, and S'aravi just stood near Hawke as he explored the room.

Fenris stepped in front of Hawke, his expression was one of deep thought and disappointment. "Gone."

Everyone could tell Fenris was struggling with something beyond what he had told them, "I had hoped..." He sighed, exasperated. "No. It doesn't matter any longer." He quickly regained his usual faintly-annoyed stature. "I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I... need some air."

The elf left without another word, distraught about missing his chance to find this Magister. S'aravi felt somewhat bad about what she had said now, it seemed like he cared for this a lot more than he let on and now that he knows he cannot find this Danarius... He was saddened. She closed her eyes and almost growled at herself.

Fenris was not a threat to them, he never intended on turning against them. He was truly here to find and kill a slaver that was chasing him. Something that mattered to him greatly and she felt guilty now that she realizes he was only ever telling the truth.

S'aravi took a look around the room as well, more interested in the books than the chests like Hawke was. She opened a few and thumbed through them, interested in the stories they told and the history they explained.

She would take a book and read it once she returned to Hawke's home in Lowtown. With luck, it could help provide more information about this place and the home they all knew of and she was still a stranger too. Carrying the book in hand, she rejoined Hawke as he found some gold in one of the chests.

Pleased with himself, Hawke was ready to leave, knowing that everything in this room had been searched and cleaned out. Aveline and Varric were none too interested in anything in the room, nothing catching their eye. So they waited for Hawke at the doorway of the room.

Once he was satisfied, Hawke began to lead them out of the mansion. With it cleaned out, Hawke was finally able to walk where he wanted with no worry about more traps. Which still made S'aravi grin, knowing that he continued to _clear _the rooms with his own heavy steps.

They made it back outside with no incident, no more demons showed themselves and Fenris was already waiting for them the moment the exited the mansion. He was leaned against one of the walls, he seemed unaware they had even walked up beside him.

"It never ends." S'aravi guessed she was wrong, he did see them approach. "I escaped a land dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burnt into my flesh and soul."

He turned to look at S'aravi, still unable to see much beneath her hood. "And now I find myself in the company of even more mages."

She blinked, "I assume you're talking about me... right?" She shrugged, unaware of where this was heading. This land enslaved their mages, would he attempt to hand her over to those that would bind her? She would not allow it to happen and she was sure her group had the same idea.

"I saw you castings spells inside." Fenris now stood in front of their group. "I should have realized sooner what you really were."

Fenris turned his attention to Hawke, "You harbor a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect it. That is in it's nature." S'aravi growled lowly, she had no thoughts of betraying Hawke or any one of his allies. They were good to her and displayed care, affection, and compassion when she needed it.

Even Hawke grew defensive, he liked S'aravi, she could fight and defend the group like any other. "S'aravi has done her part, she's strong and a good person." He glanced her way.

"I have never even heard of the Templars or demons until I arrived here. They were concerned I may fall prey to the same vices that the mages of this land struggle with." S'aravi knew very little about the problem with Mages, but she tried to remember all she could about what Anders and Hawke had told her already. "You have nothing to fear from me, so long as your blade and Hawke's do not cross."

"Arrived?" He questioned, "I am not blind. I know magic has its uses, and there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even a best-intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation, and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others." Fenris was very stern in his accusations, however, S'aravi could not agree nor disagree with him. She still had little knowledge of this land, if he tried to imply that she would do such things... he was mistaken.

"I will not harm Hawke or the others. He saved my life, I will not betray that." She was a little offended by Fenris' suspicion. It was all based on the worst experiences with a mage, he did not know S'aravi nor that mages of her home.

Everyone was a little more on edge now, because of what Fenris said. None of them were willing to let him alert Templars to her existence and neither would they let him harm her. S'aravi was glad to have found such good hearted allies to help her through the foreign land.

"I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth." Fenris was able to see Hawke's protectiveness for his mage friend and, while he had no intentions of handing S'aravi to the Templars, he did not want Hawke to believe he was not thankful for his help. "I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised."

He handed a pouch of gold to Hawke, while she felt a little bad for accepted coin from an escaped slave, they did need it. Hawke was planning something and S'aravi did not know what it was. They have had little time to explain what all of this was for, why earning coin was so important just yet.

"Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it." The tension was gone, even though Hawke was happy to see another willing ally, he was unsure of Fenris and his hate of mages.

"Are you going to have a problem with my companions?" It was a gesture towards S'aravi and Anders, the only two people who could use magic that accompany Hawke. Anders may be a tougher subject for Fenris to move past, rather than S'aravi who was still learning so much about Kirkwall and its people.

Fenris raised a brow, looking at S'aravi for a moment. "I will watch them carefully if we travel together. I can promise no more." He focused on Hawke, they were all doing that with Fenris in the group anyways.

Hawke wanted to know more though, this trip was not just for charity. "You old master must want something more than just a runaway slave."

S'aravi wanted to ask that herself, but she did not know if chasing an escaped slave was important to the Tevinter or not. She hated speaking in ignorance, her studies would have to expand in order for her to understand the customs of these people better.

"He doesn't want me at all, just the markings on my skin." Fenris was quick to reply, perhaps chasing slaves was not important to the Tevinter. "They are lyrium, burned into my flesh to provide the power that Danarius required of his pet." S'aravi even felt herself scratching her fur, the markings did look deeper and more unusual than just tattoos.

"And now he wishes his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse." Hawke grimaced, "I don't see that going very well for you."

"Neither do I." Fenris looked aside, "The truth is, I know nothing of the ritual that placed the markings on me, it was Danarius's choice. One he now regrets."

Hawke was accepting of everything Fenris said, it cleared up some questions everyone had. S'aravi was still a bit unsure about him, but it was just her trying to watch Hawke's back.

"I'm planning an expedition I might need help with." S'aravi's ears perked at that, Hawke had not mentioned anything about this expedition to her. She was curious now, where was he planning on going? Perhaps this is why he searches for coin and hides it away?

"Fair enough." Fenris agreed, "Should you ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal." It would be just another chance for Fenris to fight the Magister and bring him down, after his years of slavery. Fenris was polite though, bowing in his gratitude of Hawke's aid to him.

"I think we have all earned ourselves a break. We've been at it all day... and night now." Hawke smiled, "We should probably head home, get some sleep before tomorrows next big adventure." Aveline sighed in relief, clearly spent from her nightly activities.

"Good idea, I only have a few hours before my next patrol on the streets." Aveline stepped forward, "I'm going back to the barracks. I'll see you later Hawke." She was pleased to be done with it all, anxious to rest of the work of the day.

Varric just chuckled, "I could stand a few drinks. Hawke, Stripes, you're both welcome to join me."

Hawke patted the dwarf's shoulder, "You know what, I think I might take you up on that offer." He turned to see S'aravi standing behind him, not speaking a word. "I suppose you'll be coming too, you don't seem to like it if you can't see me."

S'aravi nodded, "I should accompany you for the night, until we head back to your home. It could do me good to taste what kind of watered down swill this city attempts to pass off as a fine drink anyways."

"I take offense to that! I assure you, the drinks are as bad as Lowtown smells, but they are most certainly not watered down." Varric took point, "I have a room, come, we'll sit and chat before I kick you drunkards out."

"Me? A drunkard? How absurd!" Hawke laughed, "If anyone here is a _drunkard, _it is definitely you!"

S'aravi began to follow the two men, stopping only to nearly run into Fenris as he was heading inside the mansion. She stepped aside to let him pass, "A goodnight to you, Fenris. I apologize for my haste in suspicion earlier."

He seemed to just wave it off, "It is nothing I am not already accustomed to. You are wise not to trust anyone so blindly," He glanced to Hawke, "Yet you all seem like you can handle doing so."

"Hawke is headstrong and stubborn, but a good man. His kindness and generosity knows no boundaries. And yes, he does show his strength when his blind trust is proven wrong." S'aravi looked at the warrior in question, laughing alongside Varric, undoubtedly telling some new vulgar joke he picked up at the local taverns.

Fenris seemed to glint her long teeth beneath the hood, he had already seen part of her inside the house, but her appearance was still a mystery to him. "I do not remember encountering anyone with a long face and sharp teeth before."

She bowed her head, allowing the hood to cover her head completely. "I have mentioned, I am not from this land. I am a foreigner, captured by slavers, brought here by them, and then freed by Hawke and his friends. They have insisted that the people of this land struggle with their own races, a new one could be dangerous, for me and them."

"That is true. You do not seem vicious, and though you are a mage, I do not hold grudges against race. Some elves might; the Dalish come to mind." He mused on the thought of the elves living in the woods. "I have seen good and bad of all people, you need not hide yourself from me."

"But I need hide from the city." He understood, they were out in the open of the residential square. Someone could see her if she showed herself now. "I have borrowed a book from this mansion, I will return it when I am done with it. If you allow me, perhaps then we may speak more freely. For now, I must join Hawke and Varric."

He agreed, "Take any book you wish, I cannot read them anyways. When you do return it I am open to speaking with you. Hawke has been a great help to me, I will accept him and whomever he chooses to join him in whatever quest he takes us on. Getting to know them, and Hawke, would benefit us all. It is hard to fight when you cannot trust the person at your back."

"I think the same, I will speak to you on a later day than. Goodnight again, Fenris." He opened the door to the mansion, "Same to you." He closed the door, by the sound of it, he did not bother locking it.

Another way of inviting Danarius in, she thought.

S'aravi paced herself to catch up with Hawke and Varric, the two men more than welcoming a night of drinking. Both of the men were laughing and telling stories on the way to the Hanged Man, where Varric was usually found relaxing.

While she did not join in on their merry making, she was listening in. They were amusing, even if she did not feel much like drinking or taking part in any celebration. Her neck and back ached, the weight of her collar was dampening her mood. She knew they had no way to remove it right now, but she could not ignore the stress it caused.

On the way into Lowtown, S'aravi continued to take note of the city around her. It was a larger city than she thought, the moments walking down the stairs into Lowtown from Hightown showed her this. She could see above some of Lowtown's smaller buildings and Kirkwall was vast, compared to the small areas Hawke tended to keep to.

She did not mind not exploring the city, there was enough problems in this section of the city; attempting to clean the city of every thug and lawbreaker would be unrealistic. Being that not even she could rid Cyrodill of crime, even though she did what she could to lower the chances of being mugged or attacked by spriggans or daedra.

Successful though she was, S'aravi never held any hopes of making Cyrodill a paradise.

On her mind was the many things this city was built upon, the Viscount in his tower, the barracks next door to him, and the Chantry on the plaza adjacent to it. While beautiful and rich in their designs, the tower and the temple brought a question into S'aravi's head. How do they decide on the separation of their religion and their politics?

Cyrodill was constantly struggling under the weight of its beliefs. Though none were quite so... looming and threatening, unless one counted certain daedra worshipers. While S'aravi knew that those who were lead by the worst of the Daedric Princes had some offending stances against the people and the economy; however, most never want to harm others and hope that no one harms them for their beliefs.

S'aravi understood freewill and the ability to choose whom you hold on high, almost every Orc follows Malacath, and while that Daedric Prince is evil, he protects his own.

The Chantry felt more like a tyrannical religion that focused on its own military power. Even though she was sure that they would not dare relate them to any _military_.

When they arrived in the Hanged Man, S'aravi was struck by the stench of the foreign ales and those that drink them in excess and fail to bathe. She followed Hawke and Varric up the stairs and into the backroom where Varric usually was found at.

Bristling with all sorts of folk and sounds, the three sat down at the table in Varric's room as a woman approached them all. "Just the usual." Varric told the woman before she even asked. She nodded and left the room, leaving Varric to lean forward and grin at Hawke.

"So, Hawke. How far do we have to go before we're ready to... offer Bartrand your partnership? I believe we had 26 sovereigns last time I checked." Varric asked, leaning on his elbows with his fingers interlaced.

Hawke shrugged, "About 35 now, haven't made too much progress, but we're almost there. A few more odd jobs around town and we'll be on our way."

The woman quickly returned with three pints of a drink that S'aravi did not know of. It smelled vaguely of some of the ales back home, but it appeared to be more like a beer. She would taste it, if only to thank them for offering her to join them and buying her a drink. "Close the door on the way out, thanks." Varric addressed the woman before she left.

He gestured to her, "You can take off that hood now, no one in here opens doors without knocking at least, those that do are too drunk to remember even if they did see you."

She nodded and removed her cloak completely, her neck was tender from the collar around her neck now, but she had to also take off her chestplate as it was beginning to grow uncomfortable. Dealing with the collar was difficult enough, the chestplate helped at first, but after too long it made it worse.

Laying them on the end of the table, she relaxed in the chair and accepted her drink. She sniffed it just to be sure that it was not too offensive and took a careful sip. It was strange, too strong for her at first, and she reeled back from it.

"Can you handle our watered down swill?" Hawke chuckled at her reaction, "I believe I have become accustomed to expensive wines more so than beer." She replied, setting the drink down. She didn't know if she would drink anymore, the taste was too different than her usual drink.

"Expensive wines, huh?" Varric raised a curious brow, "Exactly how well off are you in your homeland. You did tell us all these fancy titles, but how much are you really worth?" His usual interest in coin and earnings were never surprising to her anymore.

S'aravi did not know the exact answer to that, so she had to explain herself in more than just monetary value. "Well, if you count it by the gold I had in my pocket, about fifty to sixty thousand. If you counted by what I owned in my homes and the homes themselves than about a hundred thousand or more. And if you wanted to know how valuable I am to the people of Cyrodill... They all may have died had I not been there so I assume quite a lot."

"All _may _have died? How do you figure they _could _have died if you weren't there?" Hawke took a long chug of his beer, licking his lips as he set the mug down. Quite pleased with himself, Hawke returned his attention to S'aravi.

"If you ask a certain people, Cyrodill would have been destroyed had I not played my part. Others would have said I was simply in the right place at the right time." S'aravi frowned, "Truly, I do not know if it was destiny like many believed it to be, or just luck. Sometimes the two are one in the same."

"A little cryptic, but I can work with that. You never told us how you actually earned any of those titles, well, nothing that made sense anyways. Mind sharing?" Varric gestured to the table, meaning for himself and Hawke. They both wanted to know more about her, she was still a stranger to them even though Hawke went out of his way to give her shelter, clothing, and help of any form.

She was far too grateful and owed too much to Hawke not to answer any questions they had; even if she had any intention on keeping her history a secret.

She tapped her claw on the table, trying to figure a way to explain it without confusing them too much. Anders tried to understand, but he could not grasp everything.

"I was in prison, the Imperial Prison." Attempting to take another swig of the beer, she caught their intrigued looks. "I was in my cell when I heard a sound from the stairwell. From it came a armor clad figures and the Emperor of Temriel himself, Emperor Uriel Septim."

"An Emperor? Somehow I thought that Cyrodill had a king or... someone else?" Hawke grimaced at himself, he was not sure why he thought that... nor why he voiced it.

"He is our... second to last Emperor." S'aravi knew it was never offical in public, no ceremony, but everyone accepted Martin as an Emperor. "Well, Emperor Uriel Septim and his guards, a group called the Blades who are protectors of the Emperors, came to my cell. It was meant to be kept empty at all times, as it held a secret passage to the sewers hidden behind one of the stone walls."

"Well that's really lucky." Varric commented, "And they just... let you go?"

"They did not have much of a choice. The passage through my cell had a flaw, there was no way to open the wall from the inside. If they had to return though the prison, they had to leave the entrance open." She huffed, "So I simply followed them out." She imitated walking with two fingers tapping on the table.

Varric shifted in his seat. "So the Emperor himself comes down to get through a secret passageway that just so happens to be in your cell, which was supposed to be empty and somehow you were locked up inside of it. And in the prison you just so happened to be in?"

"I was imprisoned at the Imperial City, which is the center of Cyrodill and the home of the Emperor. It was not such a grand coincidence that he was in the same city. However, what was more strange is how he... greeted me." S'aravi shook her head, smiling as she remembered the first day of her adventure across Cyrodill and into the realms of Oblivion.

"With what? A hello and how do you do?" Was Hawke's snarky reply.

"Stranger!" S'aravi laughed, "He approached me and told me that he... saw my face in his dreams."

Hawke and Varric stared at her, the two seemingly a little off put by her answer. "He saw your... face... in his... dreams?" Hawke repeated, only for Varric to shake his head dismissively. "That is either the most unsettling thing anyone could say to another person or the worst come on I've ever heard."

S'aravi coughed, "No, I'm very sure the Emperor was not... coming onto me." With a shiver, she continued. "His dreams foretold many things. Everything he said... it was true. I followed them through the old parts of the ruins beneath the prison. There we fought those he was trying to escape from."

"Explains why he was in the prison." Hawke figured, "But what was he escaping? He's the Emperor... right?"

"Assassins. They were followers of a Daedric Prince named Mehrunes Dagon, called the Order of the Mythic Dawn. Mehrunes is the Prince of Destruction and wanted to... destroy our world. He is powerful, immortal, and nearly succeeded." She could clearly remember when Mehrunes had entered the Imperial City and tore down buildings and the Temple of One, just trying to ruin their chance at forcing him out of their world with the dragonfires.

"So these assassins went after the Emperor... but... he's a ruler of an entire land. Couldn't he have, I don't know, called upon his armies to defend him?" Hawke had limited knowledge of Tamriel, but S'aravi was more than willing to explain it all to him.

"They had many tricks. Empowered by the one they followed and the one who gave them many abilities in our world, an Altmer named Mankar Camoran. He was a powerful wizard who created the Order of the Mythic Dawn and was gifted, by Mehrunes Dagon, the Mysterium Xarxes. It is a book written by Mehrunes and contained important information for those who tried to stop the Mythic Dawn and Mehrunes Dagon." She glanced the pages, but she did not understand much about the language within it nor what the markings meant.

Hawke made a humming sound, thinking for a moment. "So... this Order of the Mythic Dawn... they posed quite a threat to your Emperor then, enough to force him into hiding."

"Enough to threaten our entire existence. If Mehrunes Dagon came into this world... nothing would compare to the destruction and chaos he would cause. The Mythic Dawn were dedicated to making that happen. They were promised immortal lives in a paradise, one constructed by Mankar Camoran himself." She tried to explain, S'aravi never knew how many details there were to the plot behind the Oblivion Crisis. She only dealt with the problems when they appeared.

"What happened after you escaped your cell and followed them?" Varric asked, leaning forward in his interest.

"We fended off some assassins and, while I had been parted for a moment from the Emperor and his Blades, I rejoined them further in the passages out to the sewers." Looking back, she realized how blinded she was. It was not a fault though. "We came to a gated exit that had been locked from the other side. It was a trap set by the assassins."

Hawke bit the inside of his cheek, "I guess that didn't end well."

"In a way, perhaps it did. We took what shelter we could in a small room away from the Blades, who were battling assassins just outside." She realized now she did not know the other Blades that were there with her, all except Baurus. "He turned to me and said that he would not be leaving, that I had to carry the Amulet of Kings and take it to a man named Jauffre. In his last words he told me that I must find his last remaining son and 'c_lose shut the jaws of Oblivion'_."

"He's even more puzzling than you are." Varric grinned, almost realizing it was awkward to smile when discussing a man's death.

"His sons were assassinated by the Mythic Dawn, he knew it too. His last son alive... was illegitimate, but very much alive." Absentmindedly, she tapped her chest where she would usually have a necklace on. "The Amulet of Kings is a powerful tool imbued with magic. No one truly knows where it came from, but if anyone not of the Septim bloodline were to attempt to wear it, it would just fall off. It is used in the ceremonies of the new Emperors, the Dragonfires were only lit when the Amulet was properly bestowed upon an Emperor of Septim blood."

"Magic? Why would they do that?" Their curiosity was flattering to S'aravi, she was glad they took her for her word as she had no way to prove it.

"The Dragonfires were gifted to us by Akatosh, the dragon god of time. Only when the Eternal Dragonfires are lit are we protected from the realms of Oblivion, from Mehrunes Dagon. They go out, by themselves, upon the death of each Emperor and must be started again once the next Emperor of the Septim bloodline takes the crown." It was strange to think that such a ritual was necessary for their very survival and never being talked about or even thought of in the daily lives of those in Tamriel.

"And that's what happened, the Emperor died. You said there was another son." All of them had finished their drinks, excluding S'aravi who did not much care for the cheap beer. The two too interested in the story to order more for themselves.

"He was an illegitimate heir. He knew not what blood was in his veins, for he never learned whose son he truly was. Instead, in a city called Kvatch, he was a Priest in the Temple of Akatosh." She smiled, "The meaning of which is not lost on me."

"So he just... became the Emperor then? Everyone was saved and these... Dragonfires were there to protect everyone again?" Hawke got ahead of himself, S'aravi just put a hand up to stop him.

"Perhaps, Hawke, it would be better to talk about this another time? It is getting late." She rubbed a hand over her face, tired after their long day and night out around Kirkwall.

He shot up, surprising S'aravi and Varric. "You're completely right, besides, I have something to give Bethany! I had forgotten..." He scolded himself internally. "Varric, I will definitely finish this drink with you another time."

"And we simply must hear more about you, Stripes." If she did not know better, Varric appeared to have a very mischievous grin on his face. "I look forward to hearing more."

"I look forward to telling it. I have not yet had the pleasure of retelling my own tale; it is usually done for me by bards back home." S'aravi sighed, "Goodnight Varric."

Both of them left Varric to his drinking, the moment Hawke and S'aravi were out the door, the woman came in with more beer in her hands. Sighing, S'aravi just continued on back to Hawke's home.

She had already put her breastplate and cloak back on before anyone saw her, so she was relaxed and ready to sleep the day off.

"So, you really are a Champion then?" Hawke spoke without expecting an answer, "I never thought of what a Champion is or does. It must be nice to have the adoration of the people."

"To a degree, most of them believe that my title is an excuse to ask me for favors or some small task like clearing a cave of goblins so the miners can return to work." Running a clawed hand across her face and on the back of her neck, she admitted that being a Champion, when all was said and done, was nothing special. "I cannot say it was fun in the end."

"But what about during? The adventures you must've had to earn that title?" Hawke was imagining all the things that one person could do to become a Champion of any land. Heroic's that went so far above and beyond that the people and the leaders could not ignore the strength and bravery of said acts.

S'aravi looked downwards to the ground, thinking about the same thing, only by what actually happened and what it meant to become the Champion of Cyrodill. Even the Hero of Kvatch and Savior of Bruma, two smaller titles that still weighed heavily on her mind. "It was a struggle, people died, good people. I could not stop it, even though I did try. Sometimes I arrived too late, sometimes I had no choice but to watch it happen."

Hawke gulped, looking a little worriedly to S'aravi. "That's... not the response I was expecting."

"Perhaps people do not realize that being Champion is not any singular task accomplished, nor any true heroism. It is nothing more than just... being there and trying to stomach what was going on around you, then continuing on when others could not." S'aravi felt a sickness creep into her, the Daedra in Oblivion did terrible things to people unfortunate enough to fall prey to them.

He frowned, thinking about what she said. He could tell from how she sounded and how she acted that this was something that bothered her, it was not something anyone could speak with her about. Contemplating what she meant and what it meant for her to know such things. He did not want to see that imagery in his mind, but once she said something, he could only guess at what it was.

They walked in silence until they reached Hawke's door. Beat after their long night out helping others, Isabela and Fenris both, Hawke was only too happy to be back home, even if _home _was his uncles' run down old shack in Lowtown.

Before he entered though, he spun to face S'aravi, who was a little surprised by this sudden movement.

"S'aravi, I don't know what happened in your home, not really. And I don't really know you all that well, even though I want to." Hawke growled at himself, unable to find proper words. "I do want you to feel welcome here, comfortable, and whatever happened before... Whatever you _saw _before... Well, just try to think of being here in Kirkwall with us as a... new start. You're part of our ragtag group now and we are here for you."

She blinked, Hawke's sudden change from his usual joking tone was strange to S'aravi. She almost forgot how to act when someone was actually being _serious_.

"Hawke..." She grasped for a reply, something to explain what she though of what he said. "I... do not believe I have the proper words. Thank you, for everything you have done for me, I could not have-"

Hawke held his hand up, interrupting her. "Don't have to say anything," He put a hand on her shoulder. "Just know that whatever happened before; this is a new place with new people. You can be whoever you want to be now, like a clean slate."

She nodded, aware that saying anything would not quite suit the moment.

"Now come on, I'm tired and don't tell mother I went to the Hanged Man." He winked at her and opened the door to his home, which S'aravi was beginning to feel was partly her home now too.

Regardless of their long day and that she ended it in an old cot that smelled like dog and old rags, she was pleased with where she was.

Hawke was right, it was new, she felt like she was starting over again. She had to earn her place again, show them what she was capable of, who she really was.

She still owed Hawke a debt, one she would see returned in full.

However, she could rebuild her life. She could be herself with those who already knew what she was and perhaps, in time, this city would know her as Cyrodill knew her.

Whatever happened from this moment on would only serve to strengthen her and those around her. She would change from her usual old tone, the loss of Martin left a large void in her, but she was still the same person. S'aravi had lost none of her real strength, none of her power.

She would see to it that no matter what, she would change from the person she became after Martin died. She would be herself again and they would see who she really was, they were not asking her to find their long lost home in the forest, or find some rare book. They were there for her and she would do the same for them.

S'aravi, though tired, did not sleep much overnight. She remained awake in an attempt to rethink how she should approach the new world around her. They deserved a fighter, mage, warrior, or someone to be stealthy for them; she would be just that.

She only had to remind herself that this new world with new people who never heard of her would be a difficult task to undertake, but she had no worries when she was on her way to being the Champion of Cyrodill and she would not hold back in Kirkwall.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Review Replies:<strong>_

_**TheSecondOtherGuy:**_

_Seemed like it didn't it! But nah, I've just been all over the place lately. x.x Plus, this was a pretty tricky chapter to write, being that it's simply following the game.  
>We'll get more into... unique circumstances later. :3<em>

**_Zalrok1:_**

_I believe I can answer that, because I'm pretty sure everyone is thinking it and, because it's not really a main part of the story, it won't change anything knowing it. But yes, there will come a time when the collar is... removed. :D_

**_The Flying Frog:_**

_Hey thanks! But yeah, I wanted to give the reader the idea that she isn't ill, like the many illnesses in TES: Oblivion, but that the collar, that is laced with lyrium and the magic that the Tevinter use has actually weakened her. Eventually, we'll see her in her full glory._

**_Rosebud1296:_**

_Yeah, I love Skyrim. I have it and all DLC's on my pc, I mod the hell out of it. xD_

**_ScourgeDarkheart:_**

_You got it ;3_

**_Sunnydale-High-Class-of-98:_**

_Yeah, I've always loved the idea of Misdirection. It's been a lotta fun to write!_

**_Inverness:_**

_Thanks, I'm trying to return to more frequented updates. :x_

**_He Who See's:_**

_Thanks, I am trying to be better than I usually am. However, my ability in writing isn't considered... average but not really above average. Just somewhere in between. xD  
>I love Skyrim so I had to. :x<em>


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